Cho Chang's Seventh Year
by dungeonwonk
Summary: While Harry Potter is busy with the Half Blood Prince, Cho decides on a career, prepares for her NEWTs, and tries to make up her mind about Michael Corner. Special guests include Penelope Clearwater.
1. Chapter 1

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

1. "You have to make a choice"

"Cho, do you think we're going to Hell?"

xxx

Any doubts that the wizarding world had been thrust back into its war against Lord Voldemort were dispelled almost as soon as Cho and the others got off the Hogwarts Express. Wizards and witches waited a nervous week for the troubles to begin again. When they began, they came in quick succession. In Nottinghamshire, the Brockdale Bridge suddenly gave way, dropping a dozen automobiles into the River Trent. No official death count was ever released. Part of the problem was the time it took to recover the bodies, and then there was the unusual condition of some of the bodies. Some were drowned, and some were killed by the falling debris of the Brockdale Bridge crushing the cars. A few, however, seemed to have survived both, only to be tortured and even killed in cars from which they were unable to escape.

This was followed by violent storms in Somerset. At least, the Muggles assumed that it was the work of a hurricane or two. Anyone who's seen the aftermath of a hurricane knows that its path looks deliberate, even selective; no wonder that ages ago people believed in giants.

Muggles were also messed about with in ways that seemed like adolescent pranks. Herbert Chorley, a Junior Minister in the Muggle government, suddenly and inexplicably began quacking like a duck. The Muggles dismissed it as a fondness for the bottle, but the Ministry of Magic came to its own conclusions and rushed him away to St. Mungo's. For security's sake, since it seemed that the Muggle government was neing targeted, an experienced Auror named Kinksley Shacklebolt was put on the staff of the Prime Minister. Officially, he was there as an administrative assistant; unofficially, he was a bodyguard.

The need for such a bodyguard became clear when a witch named Emmeline Vance was murdered near number 10 Downing Street. Both communities were upset for different reasons. The magical world knew Vance as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a corps formed during the first war against Voldemort. She had been trained to fight off the Death Eaters; few witches were as capable as she was of protecting herself.

When one of those most capable, Magical Law Enforcement chief Amelia Bones, was also murdered, it seemed as if nobody would be safe this time.

Of course, all of this did not go unnoticed. One result was that Coenrlius Fudge was sacked as Minister of Magic. In his place was Rufus Scrimgeour, who had been elevated to head Auror after the death of Amelia Bones.

The worst attack, though, was also the subtlest of all. That summer was the coldest and gloomiest on record, as a persistent mist blotted out the sun for days on end. For those who knew, it was clearly the work of Dementors, who had abandoned Azkaban prison to serve the Dark Lord and were infecting much of England with gloom and despair.

Among the holdouts, though, was the Chang herb shoppe.

xxx

At the end of her second week back, Cho was once again regaling her family at the dinner table with carefully edited tales of the sorry administration of Dolores Jane Umbridge at Hogwarts.

"You couldn't call it defense of anything, could you?" Cho was saying as her mother Lotus spelled a pot of tea and a plate of almond cookies onto the table after dinner. "She just had us reading a book!"

"Never thought I'd hear a Ravenclaw complain about books," Lotus said as she sipped her tea.

"I see what she means, though," her father replied. "All theory and no practice? That would drive any schoolroom mad."

Lotus used her wand to close the drapes a little tighter. "Dementors are supposed to be causing this foul weather, and the foul mood," she said. "They seem to be multiplying, although I don't want to imagine how they do THAT. It's a shame you didn't learn something that would cheer us up a bit."

Cho took a sip of tea, set her cup down, and smiled. "Now that you mention it…"

Thirty minutes later, the Chang family (including the cat, Chairman Miao) was still in the parlour, smiling as if it were Christmas Day, and basking in the after-effects of the Swan Patronus.

"Cho," her father asked, "why on earth didn't you tell us you could do that?"

"Because I didn't even learn how until about three months ago."

"But you said Umbridge didn't teach practical magic!"

"Well, she, she didn't. But some of us got together for an independent study group."

"She can't have been too pleased to find out about that," Lotus sniffed.

"Well, she didn't really find out. When she'd heard something about it, the group disbanded, but …"

"Was it just a Ravenclaw group, then?"

"No, some from most every House. Except Slytherin, of course."

"And did a Ravenclaw lead it?" her father asked. Before Cho could answer, though, Lotus interrupted.

"Some lazy rebellious type, I imagine, some good-for-nothing…"

Cho stood angrily. "Harry is neither lazy nor good for nothing!"

Cho's mother raised one eyebrow. "Harry, eh? Harry Potter?" Cho didn't bother to answer. "You've said he was always at wands drawn with Umbridge. I suppose this was why."

"Look," Cho sighed as she sat back down, "almost everyone there didn't get along with Umbridge…"

"I take it 'almost everyone' was in this Dumbledore's Army, then."

Cho looked down at her hands; if she looked into her mother's eyes, she knew she'd explode. "No," she said softly, her cheeks burning, "only about two dozen of us."

"So this small group of—"

"Stop, Lotus," Cho's father interrupted, "and don't say something you'll regret. The Patronus, I think, speaks for itself." He turned to his daughter, smiling. "Did they teach anything else as advanced as that?"

"No." Cho's flush of anger hadn't gone, but seemed to turn into a flush of embarrassment. "Umbridge found out and we were almost caught."

Lotus leaned forward, with an unusual kind of hunger behind her bright eyes. "Have you, erm, kept in touch with Harry?"

"Well, well, no, but…"

"Well, excuse me for butting in, but this is the chance of a lifetime! You simply MUST keep in touch with him!"

"Look, we had a, a sort of a falling-out."

"Then apologise and get back together with him!"

"Mother! It wasn't my fault!"

"That's beside the point!"

Cho jumped up, ran to her bedroom, slammed and locked the door, and threw herself onto the bed.

Why, why, why was her mother like that! It drove her crazy, especially because Cho knew that she couldn't tell her mother the true story. Cho couldn't admit that Marietta Edgecombe, one of her few remaining friends at Hogwarts, had tried to tell Umbridge about Dumbledore's Army, and been hexed for it. The hex consisted of a violent case of acne with pimples that actually spelled out the word "Sneak." Cho had tried to get the hex lifted, but Harry refused, partly because of what Marietta had done, and partly because the hex had been created by Hermione Granger, Harry's friend since First Year. And Harry simply refused to listen to reason, refused to do the right thing and have the hex taken off Marietta. He put so much store in his Muggle-born friend Hermione—

Muggle-born! Cho was surprised that she didn't think of it sooner! She stayed in her room, waiting until she heard her parents go to bed. Then she snuck down to the parlour, tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fire and said, "Penelope Clearwater!"

xxx

So it was that, the following Friday afternoon, Cho closed up the family herb shoppe, grabbed a small backpack, then took the Floo Network to the home of her older Ravenclaw friend Penelope Clearwater. Penelope and her Muggle parents lived in Little Wilbraham, a suburb of Cambridge, where the Clearwaters were both on the faculty.

At first Cho thought the network had made a mistake. It had only been a year since she'd seen Penelope, but the older girl had actually changed quite a bit. She was slightly taller, had tamed her hair and wore it pulled back, and had put on about fifteen pounds, all of which had gone to her hips and bust. This witch had clearly made the passage from schoolgirl to woman.

Cho couldn't even speak for a minute; she just stared at Penelope. Penelope looked down at her somewhat tight-fitting blouse and blue jeans: "Something wrong, Cho?"

In spite of herself, a laugh escaped from Cho. "I just, just didn't expect you to look so, so…"

"Time did this to me, and it'll get you too. And frankly, I hope I'm there to see it when you come into your own. You should be a real stunner."

To hide her embarrassment, Cho started looking at the book-lined walls of the living-room. "Anything new and interesting?"

"Oh, stop pretending you care about those!" Penelope grabbed Cho's hand. "There's a busy weekend ahead and it starts in the kitchen!"

xxx

It wasn't long before they were back in familiar territory: two Ravenclaw students discussing, snacking, laughing, and reminiscing. It took about an hour, several sandwiches, a bag of crisps, and a half-pitcher of lemonade before the talk turned somber.

They were in the living room, watching the fire burn in the grate. "Did you know her, then?" Cho asked suddenly. "Amelia Bones?"

Penelope shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the fire.

"I never met her myself," Cho went on, "but then, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, I'd hardly be likely to. But the Prefect in my year, Marietta Edgecombe, her mother runs the Floo Network, and that just destroyed her. She was so upset she couldn't come to work for a week. After all, if such a powerful witch could be—"

"Cho!" Penelope had suddenly stood up. She picked her wand up from a small table near the sofa, and made a pass in the direction of the fireplace. When she sat down again, she still wasn't looking at Cho. "Sorry, I just had to…" Her voice faltered for a moment. "I had to lock out the Floo for the night. Still, it makes me crazy that my parents are in Manchester. I can't stop worrying about them. They may be Muggles, but they know all about our world. If the Death Eaters wanted to make an example of anyone…"

"Have you asked the Ministry to keep an eye on them?"

"Yes, but what good will that do? If they can get to Amelia Bones…"

Cho didn't say anything for a minute. She was half-afraid that, when she got home on Sunday, it would be to an empty house. Not that her parents would give in to even a dozen Death Eaters; they knew too much Chinese magic, things even the Hogwarts faculty never knew. Such as those special hidden shoes, made for cloud-walking…

Penelope sighed. "Sorry to be in such a rotten mood. Wish I could feel better."

At that, Cho smiled and drew her wand.

"Expecto Patronum."

xxx

An hour later they were in the two beds in Penelope's room, with the lights out, but still talking. And it was an hour after they'd gotten into their beds that Penelope asked the question:

"Cho, do you think we're going to Hell?"

Cho couldn't help grabbing her wand and muttering "Lumos," causing it to glow. She stared at Penelope and asked, "What brought THAT on?"

"Well, I've been going to uni, and all my pals are Muggles of course. They ask me out places, and a week or so ago one of them asks me to someone's flat. She just said it was a 'get-together,' but it turned out to be a sort of church service. They wanted to know if I'd been saved. I didn't know what to say." She thought for a few seconds. "Remember Binns and his Second Year homework?"

"Oh, no!" Cho laughed. "You mean the last class before the summer break, right? He's probably still assigning that one!"

"I'm sure of it. Death didn't change him, why should a war? Remember how he'd deliver That Quote?"

Cho started to imitate the ghostly Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic. "The verse in question reads, 'Thou shalt not suffer…' Of course, the Jacobean use of the word 'suffer'…"

Penelope was laughing out loud for the first time that evening. "It took him five minutes to finish that one bloody sentence." Then, a cloud seemed to pass over her face. "But he finally said it in plain English: You must not allow a witch to live. I had to wonder the other night what my Christian friends would say if they knew who I really was."

"Do you regret it, Penny, being born a witch?"

"I never used to. But why is it so wrong to be who we are?"

Cho sighed. "I don't think it's about who we are. It's about what we do with the magic we're born with. That's the only right and wrong I can see. It's all about making choices." Cho extinguished her wand, settled under the covers, then spoke into the darkness of the room: "Choose between what is right and what is easy."

"Binns say that?" Penelope asked sleepily.

"Dumbledore," Cho said softly. "Good night, Penny."

Cho stayed awake long after Penelope's breathing became soft and even. She was remembering the Leaving Feast after the Tri-Wizard Tournament—the tournament which had cost Cedric Diggory his life. Cho wasn't weeping for her beloved Cedric anymore; she had finally gotten past that. Now, she was considering the choice she had to make; the only choice that mattered.

xxx

To be continued in part 2, wherein Cho and Penelope continue their weekend and talk about two stubborn boys…

A/N: The verse in question is Exodus 22:18.


	2. Chapter 2

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

2. A Bridge over the Cam

As they had the year before, Cho and Penelope woke Saturday morning on their own. Unlike the year before, the skies were slate grey and threatened to drop a cold drizzle onto England in July.

"I don't believe this weather," Penelope muttered as she conjured up a breakfast of oatmeal, rashers, and mushroom omelettes. Cho conjured up a tea service. "So, you can do breakfast AND a Patronus."

"Well, McGonagall was pushing everyone last year, what with Umbridge and all…"

"Oh, of course," Penelope interrupted, "and I suppose Umbridge taught you that little swan trick because she was pushing herself."

"All right," Cho sighed, "she didn't teach anything that even resembled Defense Against the Dark Arts. But there was a group of us who started studying on our own."

"How far did you get?"

"No farther than the Patronus. Umbridge found out about us and tried to shut us down. We were just one step ahead of her, though, and she never caught any of us."

"Well, you learned that one in time, anyway. You've seen the pamphlets from the Ministry?"

"Yes, and, between you and me, Umbridge may well have written those. They don't tell us much."

"They tell us that Inferi are coming back, though, and it's a good thing Patronuses work against them. Do you, erm, think you could teach me?"

Cho had to think for a minute. "Well, it seemed to come to me pretty easily, although most of the others didn't get anywhere that one night. But we could try this evening, if you like."

"I'd like very much! I really worry about my parents. I'll do whatever I must to protect them. Anyway, it's time we cleared away and got ready."

With both girls in jeans and turtleneck sweaters, they cleaned up after their breakfast. Penelope conjured up two sack lunches.

"Cho, you're seventeen now, right?" Cho nodded. "Then why didn't you ever learn to Apparate at Hogwarts?"

"Parents. Mine said I could learn to Apparate or play Seeker, but not both. And they were right; I didn't have the time to spare last year. Besides, I'd rather fly."

"Well, today that's not possible, so hang on." Cho grasped Penelope's arm with one hand. "Better use two hands," Penelope warned; "with me, it's still rather a bumpy ride."

Cho didn't believe it until, holding onto Penelope's arm with both hands, she was pulled almost off-balance by the force of their travel. It was a quick trip but very disorienting, and, when they came to a stop, Cho had to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. When she opened her eyes, she gasped. They were inside a ruined centuries-old church: Bardwell Priory.

All Cho could manage was, "It's…"

"Yeh," Penelope nodded, "it does look like a little corner of Hogwarts. That's the main reason I come back here."

They had snuck in, arriving at a back corner of the priory, and were prepared to mingle with any crowd of tourists, but there was no crowd: the bad weather had cut tourism all over England, and Bardwell Priory was no exception. They were undisturbed as they looked at the stonework and stained glass.

"So, Cho," Penelope said after a few minutes, "you wrote to me about you and this other boy … or have you moved on since April?"

Cho very carefully studied the carved stonework, in order not to look Penelope in the eye. "It's gotten a bit worse, if anything. I tried to move on, and it ... it was a fiasco."

"Well, don't be stingy: details, details!"

"I tried to drop the one boy and move on, but I, I made the wrong choice. The second boy was a Ravenclaw, and a year below me. He was part of the Dark Arts study group, but at the time he had a girlfriend of his own. They broke up, and he asked me to help him get ready for his O.W.L.s, and it was … nice. It was really nice."

"Up to a point, I take it."

Cho took a couple of deep breaths; still too embarrassed to go into the details of her one date with Michael Corner. "Let's just say he stepped over the line with both feet. So I tried to put him in his place, and he said some truly terrible things."

"Do you still care for him?"

"As a friend; nothing more. At least, I'm sorry to lose him as the friend he was. I haven't tried to owl him, and I don't know if I want him to owl me. And the worst of it is," Cho paused briefly, "I still love the other boy."

Cho was still facing the wall; Penelope placed her hand on Cho's shoulder, turning the younger girl to face her.

"Leave it to you to get things so complicated. Do you want to wait until we get back home to talk about it?"

Cho half-smiled. "Wouldn't want to spoil our little tour."

"Well, then," Penelope said cheerily, "it's time to move on. There's someone you really should meet."

She offered her elbow to Cho, who grabbed onto it; with a loud crack, they Disapparated out of the priory—and in doing so were seen and heard just for a fraction of a second by a Muggle security guard. He had long heard that the Priory was haunted. He'd have something special to tell his family tonight.

xxx

They Apparated in a back-alley just off of Portugal Place in Cambridge. It seemed to Cho as if they had traveled back to Victorian England: flagstone streets, gaslights, and no automobiles. There were obviously modern touches, of course, but it still resembled Diagon Alley more than any Muggle town she'd ever seen.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Cho couldn't help gushing as they came out of Market Passage and onto a main road.

"Isn't it? Come on; we can explore later."

They made their way to The Pickerel Inn, a pub on Magdalene Street. Penelope led the way down an alley to the side of the building, and knocked on an apparent brick wall. As soon as she did so, a door appeared. They climbed two flights of steps to a door painted red, blue, and green. Penelope didn't have to knock; the door opened by itself as they approached it.

They found themselves in an upstairs apartment, as eccentrically furnished as any place Cho had ever seen. The place was crowded both with Muggle antiques and wizarding paraphernalia: a large cauldron by the door held half a dozen umbrellas, scrolls were tacked to the walls, a pair of overstuffed chairs had doilies on them bearing the Hogwarts crest.

An elderly woman sat knitting in one of the chairs, smiling at the girls as they walked in.

"Cho Chang," Penelope said, "may I present Madam Ermengard Catalpa."

At first glance she reminded Cho a bit of McGonagall and a bit of Trelawney. Thin with an angular face, but a very canny look in her eyes; she didn't miss a single detail of what was happening around her, despite her tinted glasses. Her attire was all beads and scarves and multi-colored robes, but not like Trelawney, who seemed to try to dress the way the Muggles imagined a gypsy fortune-teller. Catalpa was more of the style called "hippie."

"Everyone just takes me to be part of the local colour, dearie," she winked at Cho. "Thirty years in the same location, and I've never been asked to explain myself. Living here is a lot like living in Hogsmeade."

Madam Catalpa spelled a tea set (with the cups already full and steaming) and a plate full of small but spicy cakes onto the table, and motioned to the girls to help themselves. Cho was about to raise her cup to her lips when Madam Catalpa shook her head. "Let's see if this one is still around," she said, raising her teacup as if in a toast. "Wit beyond measure…"

"Is man's greatest treasure," the two girls finished in unison.

All three of them drank, an herbal tea rich in citrus and chamomile, as their hostess's smile grew wider. "Good to know that's still hanging up in the Common Room," she said, setting down her cup. "It's been so many decades, I wonder sometimes how much it's changed."

"Probably just added more books," Penelope said.

"Those shelves were overflowing when I was there," Catalpa chuckled. "Penelope tells me you're Ravenclaw's Seeker, and a damned good one."

Cho shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "I'm the Seeker, anyway. This is my last year."

"Not enough good players around, no matter what they say. These days it's about celebrity; nobody pays attention to the fundamentals. But I expect you aren't here about Quidditch."

Penelope nudged Cho; "Tell her what you told me about Umbridge."

So Cho told Madam Catalpa about last year, about how Headmistress Umbridge actually tried not to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and how the "study group" had tried to teach themselves.

"It may make the difference," Madam Catalpa interrupted. "I expect Penelope brought you here for a bit of perspective. After all," she paused, "I not only fought against Grindelwald, I remember You Know Who from Hogwarts."

Cho couldn't help her jaw dropping.

"He was just Tom Riddle then, and you knew the boy would somehow end up somewhere spectacular. But," and here she actually glanced out at the window, at the foul weather, before speaking in a whisper, "I actually spoke to Tom Riddle!"

Cho and Penny shivered.

"Only the one time, of course," Madam Catalpa went on, "and never again. Of course, I hadn't a clue as to what he was like when I opened my yap. He was a First Year, very thin, tall for his age, and handsome as the devil. I had nothing to do with Slytherin back then, but something about him in the Sorting stayed with me. The Hat called out 'Slytherin!' almost at once, no waiting about.

"Well, as I was saying, I just let him be. I had serious things to worry about, like classes, and whether Muggle women would get the vote. But by the day of my first Hogsmeade visit, I was near beside myself. I was so eager that I forgot everything else that morning. I'm in the corridor, going back to Ravenclaw after breakfast, and I see Tom Riddle coming, and at first I wasn't going to say anything to him at all. But then something got the better of me and I said to him, 'You wish you were coming along, don't you, Tommy?'"

"Well, he gave me such a look—strangest look I'd ever seen. At first I thought he didn't hear me, but then I start feeling it: like an invisible hand is squeezing my throat. He's just looking at me cold as ice, and says, very quiet-like, 'I never liked the name Tom, and I despise Tommy.' And the grip on my throat just got tighter.

"If the Fat Friar hadn't drifted through the wall at that moment, I probably wouldn't be here today. Riddle took a step backwards, and the grip on my throat was gone. He turned and walked away as if nothing else had happened. But you can believe I never spoke to him again, or got within twenty feet of him if I could help it.

"Even before he left Hogwarts, he was thinking of getting rid of his name altogether and using, well, the Name We Dare Not Use. But even back then he was cold as a glacier. He behaved himself, of course, and was Best Boy when he left, but he was only ever part-human. The only one who stood up to him was the Transfiguration Master, Professor, Dumbledore." Madam Catalpa smiled at the girls, almost winked at them. "As long as Dumbledore's Headmaster, Hogwarts is the safest place to be, now he's back."

"Last year," Cho said after taking another sip of tea, "my parents took me to Amsterdam and Copenhagen."

"Ah, you took the Grindelwald tour, eh?" Madam Catalpa turned to take a framed picture off of the table by her side. She looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Cho. The picture showed a witch and a wizard posing in front of a seacoast. The witch was a younger version of Catalpa; the wizard was swarthy, with a long handlebar mustache. They were waving to the camera, but turned often to smile at each other.

"That was Mister Catalpa," the old witch smiled as she took back the picture. "We met on the front lines, so to speak. Had some good years together, until he got killed." She looked at the picture for a minute, then set it back on the table.

The words were out of Cho's mouth before she realized she was speaking: "Was it worth it, do you think?"

Madam Catalpa raised her spectacles slightly, as if trying to look at Cho from a different angle. "I can tell, you know. You're young to have seen something so serious."

Cho looked down at her teacup. "Cho," Penelope asked, "do you mind if I … " Cho didn't move or speak. "The boy who was killed in the Tri-Wizard last year; he was Cho's boyfriend."

Cho kept looking at her cup. It had been months since anyone had spoken of it at all, much less so bluntly. She wasn't sure what would happen next.

"Cho?" She looked up at Madam Catalpa, smiling kindly at her. "Wisdom doesn't always come with age. You've been through an education I wouldn't wish on anyone your age. Giorgio and I were older, and we spent enough time together to get me through this long by remembering the good times. But here's what I learned from all that: you don't try to push the bad times out of your head. Because then what's left wouldn't really be him. Did you love him enough to love all of him?"

Cho bit her lip and nodded her head. "Madam, I—you're the first person who's truly understood …"

"Well, I didn't want to understand, but that's the problem life threw my way, and I accepted it."

A clock in the corner chimed the noon hour.

"Is it so late already? You've got sights to see, no doubt, beyond my dusty old place."

The three Ravenclaw witches stood up. Penelope turned toward the door, but Cho stepped up to Madam Catalpa and threw her arms around her. "Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper.

"You'll be fine, child."

"See you, Madam," Penelope said as she opened the door. Cho was through it as soon as opened, and down the stairs to the street when Penelope was only halfway. When the two girls exited into the alley, Penelope asked, "Are you all right?"

Cho was standing with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, but with a smile on her face. "I'm better than ever, Penelope. Can't you tell? Well, where to now?"

Penelope led Cho along the bank of the Cam until they came to a bridge made of large blackened timbers. "They call it the Mathematical Bridge. According to legend," Penelope was saying, "back in the 1700s, some students had worked out how to build a bridge that would stay together without nails or other fasteners, and then built it here one night as a prank."

Cho looked at the timbers, some of which the size of a small tree. "Did they have students the size of Hagrid back then?"

"It's just a legend," Penelope chuckled. "Anyway, it's all bolted together now, for safety sake."

A little bit of sunlight had managed to burn through the haze. They stood on the bridge, watching the river run beneath them, as they nibbled on their sandwiches, each girl lost in her own thoughts.

Cho finally broke the silence. "Your turn."

They both knew what that meant. Penelope kept looking at the water below them. "I don't know," she sighed. "I still haven't heard from Percy directly. I thought for certain he'd talk to his parents once Fudge got the boot. But he seems to have kept his footing; he's working for Scrimgeour now."

"But he still hasn't admitted to being in the wrong?"

"Fudge hasn't said it publicly either, has he? Hard to believe how stiff-necked some men can be."

"Do you need to make the first move, then?"

"I've tried! All year I've tried! He screens all of his Floo calls and never answers anyone's owls. I used to think that maybe he was buried under Ministry business, or he didn't want to show his face until he was something more than a glorified secretary. I'm not sure anymore what's driving him."

"Does it make a difference?"

Penelope turned to Cho, with a sad smile that Cho immediately recognized. "I still can't just give him up and walk away, if that's what you mean. We were together for a couple of years in Hogwarts. I thought that meant something to him; I know it did for me."

"His attitude toward his family hasn't softened, has it?"

"It seems to be mutual. He can't deal with them, and they can't deal with him—not yet, anyway. Still, there's hope."

"D'you think we're foolish to hope?"

"Cho, the truth is, sometimes I think I'm the biggest damned fool on the planet. And I've tried to get him off my mind at uni, making friends there—even among the Muggles. But I remember who he was and what he wanted to be. It can't all have just vanished. I like to think it's just buried under Ministry scrolls and red tape."

"The real Percy Weasley, you mean?"

"The Percy I knew, well, he HAD to be real, hadn't he?" Penelope shivered. "I hate this weather. Would you mind if we cut this short and went home?"

"Not at all. We still have lots to talk about, and we can't exactly have a Patronus lesson out here."

By now, Cho was more accustomed to Penelope's somewhat shaky Apparating, taking hold with one hand. With a quick look around to be sure nobody could see them, they vanished, returning to the Cambridge suburb of Little Wilbraham.

xxx

To be continued in part 3, wherein Cho stops off while buying textbooks to visit the newest merchants in Diagon Alley…


	3. Chapter 3

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

3. Friends and Family

"What am I doing wrong!" Penelope howled. It was a frustrated cry that could have been heard outside the house.

Cho had spent an hour trying to teach Penelope Clearwater to produce a Patronus. She repeatedly demonstrated her own Swan Patronus, she repeated what Harry Potter had taught Dumbledore's Army about producing a Patronus—and still, after repeated tries, Penelope could only coax a vague silver cloud out of the end of her wand.

"Maybe we should rest for a bit," Cho suggested. The truth was, she was puzzled as well. Penelope was older, certainly more experienced, and just as studious as she remembered her at Hogwarts; a complete Ravenclaw girl. It shouldn't have been this difficult.

They had been practicing in the Clearwaters' living room, to make sure that there was enough room. They now moved to the kitchen, where Penelope used a Chilling Charm on a couple of bottles of butterbeer.

"Got that one right, anyway," she said gloomily. "How did you do it the first time?"

"Well, I guess I just picked the right memory."

"Something to do with Cedric?"

"Well, no, because he was dead. Yes, we had some wonderful times together, but now it's all mixed up with sorrow. It has to be something that's pure happiness, and nothing else. I pulled something out of my childhood; maybe you should do the same."

"There just isn't a lot to choose from for me," Penelope sighed. "My first bits of magic, I mean, I never saw them coming. I'd drop a dish or something, and it would shatter, and then, while I fretted about it, it would all come back together, good as new. It frightened me at first, but I didn't let on to my folks. I was pretty much comfortable with it by the time the first Hogwarts owl arrived, but they were still only beginning to catch on."

Cho took a sip of her butterbeer. "The hair thing?"

Penelope nodded. Hair seemed to be one of the earliest barometers of magic; a parent could cut or style a child's hair, and it would all be undone in an hour. "Of course, they thought they were getting old and forgetful, even though they weren't yet forty," Penelope chuckled. "Magic would have been the last thing to occur to either of them."

Cho nodded, even though she'd never heard a Muggle-born talk about her childhood before. There were so few at Hogwarts—and one of them happened to be Hermione Granger, who was really a sore point with Cho at the moment. Penelope interrupted Cho's thoughts:

"Did you know what animal it was going to be before you started?"

Cho shrugged. "I hadn't given it a thought, actually. Do you suppose that's the problem here? I mean, do you have some animal in mind?"

Penelope actually started to blush. "Yes, well, it's … do you think that's the problem?"

"Could be. What is it?"

"Well … a gryphon."

It was clear to Cho at once. "Let me guess: body of a lion, wings of an eagle. You wanted a Patronus that would be the symbol of you and Percy."

Penelope bit her lip and nodded her head. She looked as if she might burst into tears.

"Please don't take on," Cho smiled, gripping Penelope's hand in her own. "I can say from experience it doesn't change anything. Anyway, that's probably why it keeps going wrong. You've got two thoughts going at once: your happiest memory, and your wanting it to be a gryphon. Just let the Patronus be whatever it's going to be."

"D'you think it'll work?"

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Penelope sat, sorted out her thoughts, and tried again. Finally, the third time she said "Expecto Patronum," a cloud of silver vapour gushed out and resolved itself into an eagle which flew out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Penelope actually ran to the living room by herself, seeming to forget about Cho, chasing her eagle. When she followed after, Penelope was creating a second Patronus, and then a third.

"Cho! Look! I can do it! I did it! I mean, you did it!"

"We both did it," she smiled. Before she could say anything else, Penelope grabbed her hand and pulled her to the sofa.

"I don't know how I'll get to sleep tonight," Penelope grinned, barely able to keep still. "I feel so …"

"I know what you mean. So, what was your memory?"

"My Sorting. I didn't know about Muggle-borns or anything like that. I always thought I was some sort of freak for being magical. When it came time to put the Sorting Hat on, I was terrified that it wouldn't send me to any house, that it would say 'Here now, you don't belong here at all; just get on back home,' or something. And then it said, 'Don't fret yourself, my dear. Hogwarts is where you belong, and your House shall be Ravenclaw!' Well, the Hat could have said I had to live in the Potions dungeon and I still would have been relieved, but to be in Ravenclaw—that was such a joy! I mean, I'd read about all of the Houses the first day I got 'Hogwarts: A History.'"

"I wonder why the other Houses complain about that book so much."

"Well, it's their loss if they've never read it. But what are we doing here? Let's get back to the kitchen! This is a big night!"

"What do you have in mind?"

"To Spell us up a cake!"

xxx

And Penelope did create a pumpkin layer cake with blue and bronze icing that tasted of honey and fruit. "Why don't you send one of these to Percy?" Cho asked. "You know the saying about the way to a man's heart."

"Why don't you send one to your boyfriend, then?"

That put a small cloud over the celebration, as they thought about the unattainable boys they each loved so deeply. They left half of the cake until Sunday morning, and finished it for breakfast, with tea.

"Cho!" Penelope shouted out suddenly while she was pouring. "I almost forgot to mention. The oldest Weasley boy is getting married!"

"Would that be one of the twins? I thought Percy was the oldest."

"No, there's two above him. The oldest is Bill Weasley. He's been off in the Sahara, researching spells for Gringotts."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Maybe it was, but he got back in one piece. And you'll never guess who he's marrying!"

"Tell me, then."

"The Beauxbatons Champion!"

"Fleur!" At the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Beauxbatons students had stayed in Ravenclaw House and eaten with them. Fleur Delacour had struck Cho—and most of Hogwarts—as haughty and aloof, but the longer she stayed in Hogwarts, the more human and approachable she became. Part of it was losing some of the Tasks, which gave her some much-needed humility.

"Fleur got better toward the end," Cho said, adding cream to her tea. "How are they all getting on?"

"Well, Molly, Mrs. Weasley, that is, she doesn't seem to think Fleur's good enough for her boy. Personally, I think all mothers are like that. They can never stand to see their sons go off, while it seems they can't wait for their daughters to leave home."

"But the wedding's still on?"

"From what I hear, wild hippogriffs couldn't tear those two apart. His mother will just have to learn to like her, that's all."

"I guess life with her can be a bit strange," Cho said between forkfuls of cake; "I know it was at Ravenclaw. With that veela ancestry of hers, she walks into a room and all the males go completely to pieces."

"Most of the males," Penelope corrected. "Mister Weasley has never fallen under her spell."

"Well, he's an older wizard, more experienced."

"Experienced is right. The fact is, he loves his wife much too much to succumb to a veela; probably immune to love potions and the like as well. He just can't imagine anyone better than the love he's found."

Neither can I, Cho thought.

xxx

It was a few minutes after noon when Cho Chang hopped out of the fireplace in the parlour of her home. The only one to greet her was the cat, Chairman Miao. With all the talk of Death Eaters on the loose, this worried her. She looked around and saw the note from her mother on the mantel:

Come downstairs to help out as soon as you get back.

It wasn't unusual for the herb shoppe to be open on a Sunday. Usually, though, her parents wouldn't open until one o'clock. Sure enough, after she dropped her overnight bag in her room, she went downstairs, found that the shoppe was not only open early, but fairly crowded.

Cho's mother was bent over behind the counter searching for gentian root. She glowered at Cho … as if I was supposed to KNOW about all this without someone telling me, Cho thought. Still, she kept her own composure as she stepped behind the counter: "How can I help you, ma'am?"

xxx

The shoppe closed a little after five; a couple of hags held things up by arguing over the last of the valerian. No sooner had Cho locked up and spelled the place clean then she was called upstairs by her mother.

"Put on something good," Lotus said to Cho as she rushed from kitchen to dining room and back; Cho could smell something wonderful each time Lotus went in or out of the kitchen. "The Tans will be here at half past. Show them to the parlour and serve them whatever they're drinking." She was off again before Cho could reply.

She looked through her wardrobe, and realized that she had no dress robes for summer. There was one set she had planned to wear to the Third Task, but she and Cedric had argued, not knowing she would never see him alive again. Still, she was finally past losing control of her emotions; she put on the robes, which adjusted themselves to the few inches she had grown in over a year. No sooner did she walk out of her room when she heard the street bell; the Tans were here already.

Cho had seen much more of the Tans, who after all lived next door, before she went away to Hogwarts. They were a couple of Chinese wizards, who seemed slightly older than Cho's parents. Lian Li Tan dealt in Chinese artifacts for Muggles in a shop in the West End, while his wife dealt imported magical items in a shop in Diagon Alley. They'd lost their only son in the war against Voldemort, and never spoke of him when Cho was around. However, once a year, the shop would open late, or stay closed altogether, and Cho came to realize that it was the anniversary of their son's death.

Mister Liang's face was rather flushed; the after-effects of having dosed himself with Pepper-Up Potion after catching a cold. He and his wife were shown into the parlour, and they took a seat on the sofa.

"What would you like to drink?" Cho asked.

"Just a glass of water for me," Mister Tan said. "That Potion always makes me thirsty."

"Missus Tan?"

"Cho, you're seventeen years old now, aren't you?" Cho nodded. "Well, then," the older woman smiled, "I expect you can call me by my name without offending me."

"Oh; of course."

"Well, then, I'd like two things: some chilled green tea, and for you to join me for a minute."

Cho Spelled up three tall chilled glasses, and then sat in the comfy chair just across the coffee table from the Tans. As she sat, Cho glanced nervously at the kitchen door.

"Now don't you worry about your mother," Mo Tan smiled. "She can find her way around her own kitchen, I'm sure, and I asked you to stay here for a bit."

"Yes, ma'am." Mrs. Tan raised an eyebrow. "Sorry; Mo. I'm afraid this'll take some getting used to," Cho chuckled nervously. "The way you write your name, it means 'hair,' doesn't it?"

"Yes, and I hated it when I was young. Made me sound like some kind of monster. But the fact is, I was born with a full head of hair already showing. It was the only logical name."

Cho took her first good look at Mrs. Tan in ages. Her hair was still black, but gathered into a tight bun. She had olive-coloured skin, and the thought crossed Cho's mind that she was a few shades darker than Michael Corner. Her face wasn't pretty, but had a kind of stately, classically Chinese beauty to it. "Stately" was probably the best word to describe her, Cho decided; Mrs. Tan, even though she was a merchant and the wife of a merchant, commanded respect because she had made peace years ago with her life, and could ask Cho to do things for her without seeming heavy-handed about it.

"I just wanted to say," Mrs. Cho went on, "how sorry we were to hear that young Diggory was a friend of yours."

More than a friend, Cho thought; all she said was, "Thank you."

Mr. Tan nodded. "You see, our son was only eighteen years old when he was killed in the last war."

Cho couldn't help asking, "How did it happen?"

"He and some of his mates had been attacking Death Eaters, then retiring to a safe-house in Croydon South. Well, it wasn't so safe; the Death Eaters found where it was, then set the house on fire. He was burned alive."

There was a slight tremble in Mrs. Tan's jaw. "I fretted about it for years; it was such a terrible way to die. Of course, he knew it was likely to happen; we all knew it. And it would have been worse if he'd never fought in the war at all and was killed anyway."

Before anyone could say anything else, Lotus stuck her head out the kitchen door: "Cho, I really need your help."

"My fault, my dear," Mo Tan spoke up cheerily. "Something I wanted to talk about with your daughter. Didn't mean to keep her."

Lotus may have been displeased, but didn't let it show. "Cho?"

"Excuse me," Cho said to the Tans and went into the kitchen. "Mummy, I'm sorry…"

"Set the table," Lotus snapped. "I can't do that and cook, too."

Cho went into the dining room and began spelling plates out of the cupboard and onto the table. She waited until she was done to think: why did you invite them if you didn't want to do the work?

xxx

As they ate a delicious seven-course Chinese meal, the two men mostly talked business.

"Witches coming and going from your place all day," Lian Li Tan said, "can't help but notice it. All this war talk doesn't seem to have hurt you."

"Some day," James Chang said, sounding almost like a professor, "some genius will figure out a way to mass-produce potions and bottle and sell them, even to Muggles. Until then, I think our business is secure."

"And everyone's so much more aware of the danger now," Lotus nodded. "All those posters and pamphlets from the Ministry…'

"I'd just as soon paper our loo with those things," Mister Tan interrupted. "Comes right down to it, they're not so useful."

"Well, the Ministry has to look like it's doing something, doesn't it?" Mo Tan said. "It's an awkward place they're in."

As Cho spelled herself some fried noodles, she surprised even herself by responding. "Well, they've put themselves in that place. They knew something was up for a year and didn't even admit it."

Lotus looked daggers at her daughter, but Mo Tan simply clucked her tongue as she poured herself some more tea. "Fudge should have gotten out ages ago. Nice fellow and all, but we needed Scrimgeour to get us back on a war footing."

Cho was about to say something else, but she caught the look on her mother's face and simply went back to eating. However, Mo Tan saw all of it.

Cho didn't say anything else that evening until she led the Tans downstairs to let them out. Before she could say anything to them, though, Mo Tan grabbed Cho's hand and pulled her toward the back of the shoppe, away from her husband.

"There's a lot happening now, dearie, and I don't know the whole story yet, but there's something I want to tell you. This is it: you can fall in love any number of times in your life. You don't need to listen to all of that one-time-only romance rubbish. I mean, if you're trying to stop yourself from looking around…"

"Excuse me, erm, Mo," Cho interrupted. "If I've stopped looking, it's because I know exactly who I love."

Mo Tan hugged Cho as if she were a long-lost daughter. "Just, well, never cheat yourself out of happiness, Cho. We have little enough of it these days." With that, she let go, turned, and left the shoppe with her husband.

Yes, I know exactly who I love, Cho thought as she walked up the steps. And I used to think he knew as well.

xxx

To be continued in part 4, wherein Cho ponders sending one owl, receives another, and faces the Terrible Twins…


	4. Chapter 4

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

4. Two Owls and the Terrible Twins

On 30 July, Cho helped in the shoppe as best she could, but for most of the day she was distracted. She kept up an internal debate as to whether to owl Harry for his birthday. It wouldn't be totally unexpected, after all. They had kissed in the Room of Requirement … that had to count for SOMETHING with him … but then they'd quarreled about Marietta … but something like that wouldn't still stand in the way, would it? We reconciled after that debacle at Puddifoot's, after all. I mean, if I'd barked at him about Granger … oh, wait, I did bark at him about Granger … and Merlin only knows what they were up to when they left the final Quidditch match together in the first five …

"Minced!"

Cho came out of her thoughts, facing a rather irate old wizard.

"Beg pardon?"

"The woundwort needs to be minced, and you've just gone and shredded it."

"Sorry, sir. I'll fix it right away."

In the end, she didn't send an owl, partly because she didn't know if it would get through the new wartime security, and partly because she didn't know how Harry would react to it. Although she feared the worst…

xxx

When the book list arrived on 1 August, Cho was in the shoppe, refilling bins of herbs. She went into the back room to rinse off her hands, and she saw the tawny owl sitting patiently on the ledge.

Cho froze. She knew at once what the owl was holding, and the reality of it had finally hit her. This was the Seventh Year, her last year at Hogwarts. After that, the rest of the wizarding world would be waiting for her, and she still had no real idea of what she would do in it. She had barely paid attention to Professor Flitwick in her pre-O.W.L. Fifth Year career conference, lost in her dreamlike trust that her future, whatever it might be, would have Cedric Diggory in it by her side. Even the notion of being a professional Seeker, a dream that had been her focus for years, seemed like some sort of distant fantasy…

"Cho!"

Lotus had stuck her head into the back room. She must have assumed that Cho was woolgathering; how could she understand? Cho turned, rushed past her mother, and spent the rest of the day dealing with customers. She didn't come out of her room for dinner.

The next day, Cho came down to breakfast to see her parents reading through her book list and Hogwarts letter. There was, however, another scroll on her plate. She picked it up, and a small piece of metal clinked out of it onto her plate. She recognized it at once: the badge of a Quidditch Team Captain.

Her mother gave her sternest, narrowest look over her raised teacup. "We trust that you won't let it interfere with your N.E.W.T. studies."

Cho just kept looking at the badge. "Mummy, I … I don't even know yet if I want this."

Lotus all but threw her fork down onto the table. "We have been very patient with you about Quidditch. We couldn't see where you were going with it or why you would want to. And now, now that there is something tangible coming out of it …"

"Tangible!"

"Prestige! Privileges! Credentials! Even I know that being a Quidditch Captain counts for something outside of Hogwarts as well as in it. This is not the time to throw that away."

"But the time IS the problem!" Cho had to catch her breath. "Listen to me. I was born during the last war. You should certainly be able to remember what that was like. And with something like that hanging over us, well, Quidditch just seems rather pointless."

The room fell silent. Cho could see that her parents were indeed remembering the first war against Lord Voldemort, and comparing it to the way things were now.

"Cho," her father said at length, "things are now just as they were in the last war, by which I mean that nobody could foresee when or how it would end. If the Dark Lord had not decided to go after Harry Potter and his family on that particular Hallowe'en, things would have gone on for weeks, or maybe years. All I mean to say is this: don't make any decisions just yet."

"I would have thought you'd be happy if I concentrated on my N.E.W.T.s."

"Of course we would," Lotus snapped, "we expect it of you. But your teammates may be counting on you as well. You have an obligation to them, you know."

"We know how much Quidditch has meant to you, for as long as you could fly a broom. And as long as you're talking about the last war, they didn't stop Quidditch altogether. All I'm saying is, wait until you get to the school and then talk to the team about it," Cho's father said. "In the meantime, tomorrow is Saturday. I'll get to Gringotts early and you can get your books later in the day."

"On a Saturday afternoon, dear? With the business we've been doing lately?"

"I can go Sunday morning to get my books," Cho offered. "It will be before the shoppe opens, and there'll be fewer people at the bookstore."

"That's my Ravenclaw," Cho's father smiled, "very sensible."

Lotus looked as if she wanted to object. Cho actually wanted to object. Sensible. A sensible daughter wouldn't have coasted through school for six months while I was with Cedric, then coasted for another year mourning him, and all the while thinking about Harry and what might happen … and what really did happen … I wonder if he'll be in the Owlery again our first Saturday morning back?

xxx

When Cho came down to breakfast Sunday morning, a pouch full of coins was already next to her plate.

'Thank you, daddy. Were you in Gringotts all night? The lines have been fierce lately."

"Actually, as the rest of the lines at the bank get longer and longer, the one for Commercial Accounts has been getting ominously shorter. I didn't have to wait at all."

"Has anyone else from the Alley gone missing?" Lotus asked.

"Since Ollivander left? One of the owners of Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"That's the first I've heard," Cho said. "Which one?"

"Felicia Gridpipe; daughter of that old man."

"That's terrible! Did the Death Eaters get her?"

"Well, it's the same as with Fortescue and Ollivander. No Dark Mark over the shop, so nobody really knows. No, I suspect the new war has just given a few wizards an excuse to settle old scores."

"You should have been in Ravenclaw," Cho smiled as she poured some juice.

"I could never have afforded your booklist."

"You'll be back before twelve?" Lotus interrupted.

"Long before twelve, mummy. Don't worry."

xxx

Sunday used to be just another day on the wizarding calendar, since Christianity had long ago declared itself hostile to magic. Still, as part of long-established Ministry policy that wizards and witches try to avoid standing out amongst the Muggles, Sundays were an abbreviated day of rest. At the least, it offered a chance for a morning lie-in or a family outing. On the other hand, wizards and witches who worked for the Ministry often did their shopping on the weekend, since they didn't have the chance during the week. So Cho knew that the Chang shoppe would be as crowded that afternoon as Diagon Alley used to be.

She could see, as she walked toward Flourish & Blotts, carrying her pouch of Galleons needed to purchase the books on her list. She also carried another list, and another sack of Galleons. She'd kept these hidden from her parents, not entirely sure if she would go through with her plan.

She hadn't spent much time in Diagon Alley since school ended, and now wondered at how rundown it all seemed. It wasn't just the ominous boards over some of the shops, like Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It was also the hideous purple posters from the Ministry warning everyone of what everyone already knew: that there was a war on.

They'd do better to warn us against these charlatans, Cho thought as she passed between two stalls in front of Flourish and Blotts, one of which was closed (it claimed to sell "pure-bred Kneazles," while the other had a seedy-looking old wizard who jangled some talismans in her face as she passed.

"Need an amulet, my dear? Protect that fine little neck of yours from vampires."

Cho just shook her head, thinking that nobody would sell an amulet so cheaply if it could do what it claimed. She went into the bookstore.

Normally the weekend after the school owls would find Flourish & Blotts jammed with students and their parents; not today. There were only a handful of families there; among them, Cho recognized Betony McQuinch, a Hufflepuff who, like Cho, was now Seventh Year. They only ever saw each other in Doubles Potions, and never spoke outside of class.

"Hi," Betony smiled at Cho. She seemed to be glad to see a familiar face.

"Hello," Cho smiled back.

"Well, this is it, then."

"Yes." There was an awkward pause. "Have you heard if Summerby's going to be Hufflepuff's Seeker again?"

"I'm sure he is," Betony replied. "Of course, you'll probably sweep our team up and down the pitch again."

"I wasn't all that good last year…" Cho started.

"Good enough to come within a twig of the Cup. Of course, Potter will be back, too, won't he?"

"Yes," Cho said, keeping a straight face. "I'm looking forward to that match especially."

Just then, an assistant staggered to the counter carrying Betony's pile of large and heavy books. "That's N.E.W.T. year for you; I expect your stack will be even bigger." Cho just shrugged. "Well, got to go, then. Take care."

"Same to you," Cho said, as the manager approached her.

"Ah, Miss Chang," the wizard beamed. Cho was accustomed to the personal treatment at Flourish and Blotts when business was slow, since her parents were also merchants in Diagon Alley. "Your final year, if I'm not mistaken. I hope we'll enjoy your custom after Hogwarts."

"I hope so, too," Cho replied, handing the school booklist to the manager. "I'll need the books I've marked, plus these." She handed him the second scroll. He didn't say anything else, but went to collect the volumes on the lists. Once she'd paid for them, she took the stack from her personal list and Transfigured them into an abacus, which she put in her pocket. She didn't want her parents to know about the courses she planned to take—not yet, anyway.

With the rest of her books in two enchanted carrier bags, allowing her to handle thirty pounds of books with ease, she should have gone straight back to the shoppe. Still, she decided that she had enough time, and walked away from her family's end of Diagon Alley.

She saw her goal at the other end: Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

She still remembered the Weasley twins' last hurrah at Hogwarts, when they set off what seemed to be a hundred kinds of fireworks, blocked a fifth floor corridor with a swamp, and rode their brooms away from the school to go into business for themselves—and to go into Hogwarts legend. Cho was among the students who marveled at their audacity as well as their magic. Now that they were free to pursue their magic and use it for defense against the Death Eaters, surely they'd come up with something …

… tasteless and trivial.

She turned away from the gigantic window poster advertising self-induced constipation into a shop that was apparently just opening for the day. A blonde witch was arranging boxes on a shelf. Cho looked at a display labeled WonderWitch Cosmetics: pimple creams and hair enhancers, mostly, but there were also several types of (according to the display) Love Potions. Cho had no use for any of that, and moved on.

Near the counter was a large display of Patented Daydream Charms, offering what appeared to be 30 minute fantasies. They all seemed to be inspired by stereotypical themes: a pirate ship motif, a dungeon rescue motif, a couple embracing under a waterfall in a sylvan glade…

Cho shook her head. This is supposed to be their best work, she thought; cheap erotic daydreams? Anybody who needs magical help in that department is pretty bad off.

Her own memories turned back momentarily to Harry and the dropped quill …

"Do you need help with anything?"

Cho woke up from her own daydream to look at the shopgirl. "Thanks," Cho smiled, "but this sort of thing really isn't for me."

"Ah. Would you wait there just a moment, please?" Without waiting for an answer, the girl turned and went into the back of the shop.

Cho thought about the girl. She must have been a recent Hogwarts graduate herself. Her short blonde hair framed a face that was pretty enough, but had known some hard times. She'd seen the same sort of look in some of the cousins she'd met the summer she went to China: a look of wanting to grab onto any opportunity to get away to a better life than they'd known.

Then she could hear the voices. "You said you were always on the lookout for someone who'd be good daydream material."

"Well, then, let's check her out." That was one of the twins.

The other one finished the thought: "And let's not scare this one away."

"That wasn't my fault. She was far too twitchy; bad daydream material anyway."

The twins came out of the back beaming, until they saw Cho. "Oh," one of them said, "it's you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Cho suspected she knew what it meant, but she had to hear them say it.

"Never mind," the other said.

"Well, if Fred won't ask it, I will," George asked. "Are you still friends with the sneak?"

Cho hadn't noticed until then the fire in George's eyes, and Fred's as well. "If you mean Marietta Edgecombe, yes, she's still my friend."

"Ravenclaw's really gone downhill, then…"

"That, or the Sorting Hat really needs a patch-up."

"You're supposed to be the smart House. Why are you hanging about with slime like her?"

Cho wanted to give as good as she got, but she also didn't want to give the twins the satisfaction of seeing they'd upset her. She simply turned and walked to the shop door. You don't have to answer back, Cho told herself. You don't have to answer back.

As her hand touched the door, one of the twins called out, "I'll never know what Potter saw in you."

I have to answer back!

Cho stopped and turned. "You know, when you left Hogwarts, I was in awe of you. I thought, you obviously didn't give a damn about Umbridge or the Ministry or any of that. You were in Dumbledore's Army; you knew what was important. I thought to myself, 'they are what it means to be in Gryffindor.' Well, maybe you are, after all. Except now I can see you for who you really are. And the fact is, you just don't give a damn about anything."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left.

xxx

To be continued in part 5, wherein Cho meets Michael and Marietta on the train, and almost meets Harry…


	5. Chapter 5

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

In writing this story, I invented and named characters who were also in Cho's year in Ravenclaw. These have been gradually appearing in J.K. Rowling's books, and I have assigned my characters to hers as necessary. It's necessary now: the Ravenclaw I created under the name George George Millethammer is now to be known as Marcus Belby.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

5. Last Journey

Dinner at the Chang house on 31 August was quiet and subdued. Unlike the night before Cho's first trip to Hogwarts, a giddy and boisterous affair with other merchants from Diagon Alley sharing a ten-course dinner and Cho peppering everyone else with questions, the three sat and ate a simple cold meal. Cho had packed almost everything (including the books she didn't want her parents to know about) a week before.

After dinner, the three moved to the parlour. With Chairman Miao curled up on Cho's lap, the three sipped iced tea and, despite the recent heat breaking through the cold mist of that wartime summer, looked at the fire in the fireplace. Each was lost in thought.

Finally, Lotus asked her daughter, "You're thinking about tomorrow?"

"Not really." Cho paused a moment. "I was trying to remember as far back as I could, but it's all rather fuzzy. I think I can remember hearing about Ha Li Po Te when it happened, but I'm not even sure of that anymore." Cho was afraid she'd start blushing, and quickly went on. "Everything I remember has to do with this house, though."

"You've never lived anywhere else," Lotus smiled. "We bought this place just a few months before you were born."

"And it was a bit of a mess," continued Xiemin, her father. "The war was on, and Diagon Alley looked, well, rather the way it looks now. This place had been abandoned by two families of Armenian wizards. Nobody knew what happened to them, or at least they wouldn't talk about it."

"Dear, do you remember the estate agents who sold us the place?"

Xiemin nodded. "Hargon and Gutrune Fledermaus."

"They were married?" Cho asked.

Lotus shook her head. "Brother and sister. And they must have thought we didn't know a bit of magic. None of this Merlin magic, anyway."

"They over-inflated the price of the building, and made all sorts of claims about it. They said it had a Ministry-quality shield charm on it. But I showed them what I thought of their way of doing business. I tested it, and it was just a deflector charm; I ended up destroying the dustbins out back, but I'd proven the house wasn't shielded at all. That made them bring the price down a bit."

"Good for you," Cho smiled.

"They thought we didn't know anything worthwhile just because we were from China. I think that's when we realized that your education would be the most important gift we could ever give you." Lotus set down her glass and looked at her daughter. "I know we haven't spoken much about it, but when we found out you'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw House we were so … well, I guess you'd say relieved."

Cho looked at her mother curiously.

Her father cleared his throat. "She means that, well, each House has its reputation, for what that's worth, and it may not have a lot of truth to it. But Ravenclaw is the House for education, and the cleverness to take advantage of it. Not that we'd have loved you any less if you were Sorted anywhere else, but during your time at Hogwarts you've upheld the name of Chang. That means a lot to us."

Cho could hardly believe she was asking her parents, "Does this mean you're proud of me?"

Lotus smiled. "We've never been anything but proud of you."

Cho stayed seated, stroking her cat's fur, fighting the impulse to hug her parents. They never felt comfortable with public shows of emotion.

xxx

The next morning Cho, who usually slept lightly on the night before a big day, was up before sunrise. First, she took the letter she had finished writing the night before and sent it off with Quan Yin. She next opened her trunk, took out the abacus, Transformed it back into the secret books, and spent an hour skimming through them, but also pondering. Did she want to do this? Was this next move one she really wanted to make? A voice in her head, sounding remarkably like her mother answered: That's a silly question. My parents didn't want to get caught in the middle of the first war against Voldemort; Cedric didn't want to die in the second war. But circumstances are the way they are. What I want shouldn't even enter into it.

Of course, her mind went on, I'm doing this because of what I want. Because I want Harry to notice me, to speak to me again.

I want Harry.

Cho was brought to herself by the cat scratching on the other side of the door. She quickly Transfigured the books back into an abacus and hid it in her trunk, then went to feed the cat.

Breakfast was leisurely. The shoppe would not open until later, and everyone who was still in Diagon Alley knew why. Cho had thought that actually making the trip would be a minor detail, until the shoppe's bell rang. Lotus nodded to Cho as if to say, Go see who it is.

She went down the stairs and look through the blind on the front door to see—what looked like a young boy. Seeming to be no more than ten, he wore a baggy overcoat and a top hat almost bigger than his head.

"When ye're ready te go te King's Cross, miss," he smiled, and glanced over his shoulder. Cho looked at the street—and saw a 19th century hansom cab, its brass fixtures shining in the weak sunlight and hitched to a very well groomed roan gelding.

Cho turned and dashed up the stairs. Her parents were waiting at the top.

"We'll be going with you to the station," Cho's father smiled.

"We wanted to make this last trip to Hogwarts a memorable one," Lotus added.

This time she didn't hesitate to hug them fiercely.

xxx

It should have been a bit of a squeeze for three people in the hansom, but it was after all a wizarding hansom, and so there was plenty of room. As the hansom wheeled out onto Charing Cross Road from a side street, Cho couldn't help gushing: "This is fantastic! After all the secrecy and fear this summer, this is like a parade!"

"I think it's called hiding in plain sight," Xiemin smiled. "These contraptions are still all over London day or night. Nothing especially magical about them."

In front of King's Cross, the family got out of the cab, paying the boy a few Galleons. To the Muggles passing by, it was a quaint bit of local colour, a look back to the days of Dickens and Sherlock Holmes. None of them had a clue. Cho smiled at that thought as she lifted her trunk herself onto a cart and pushed it toward the station.

As they left the cab, the family immediately noticed two men with full beards that almost hid their faces, wearing dark suits, standing at attention by the door, as if waiting for someone important. After the Changs had passed them and gone into the station, Lotus leaned toward her husband and whispered, "Aurors?" He nodded. "Aren't they supposed to me more, well, inconspicuous?"

"Maybe that's the idea," Cho's father whispered back. "Put up a strong façade to stop anything happening in the station."

"But what about on the train?"

"There'd have to be more Aurors on the train," Cho joined in. "They just wouldn't be so obvious, is all."

By now they'd reached the barrier. Cho turned to her parents, "Well…" she started.

"Well, what? We're all going in together," Cho's mother interrupted. "This is our last chance, isn't it?"

Cho smiled and nodded; then, waiting until nobody was watching, they all slipped through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The platform was its usual hubbub of activity, with young students racing about looking for friends or trying to escape from their families. Owls were screeching, cats were yowling, and the bright red engine hissed steam at odd intervals. After a summer of dreary weather and terrible news, this was the most normal many of these wizarding families had felt in months.

Cho looked at the First Years in silent amazement, only to have her father interrupt her thoughts. "Hard to believe now you were ever that young, isn't it?"

"I was just thinking that," she smiled, then added, "I worry about them now, the young ones. Do they know what's really happening out there?"

"If their parents had any kind of sense," Lotus began, but her next words were drowned out by another blast of steam.

"I'd better get aboard, then," Cho said.

"Have a good year, Captain Chang," her father smiled as he hugged Cho.

"Don't neglect your N.E.W.T.s," her mother said. As she hugged her daughter, she added, "And please come back to us safe and sound."

Cho nodded, then pulled her trunk onto the train with one hand while holding Quan Yin's empty cage with the other.

The corridors of the train seemed to be as chaotic as the platform, with children--Cho couldn't help but think of them that way--dashing up and down the corridors, stopping only to press their noses against the compartment windows, only to dash off again. In the second carriage, she saw one compartment occupied only by another Seventh Year Ravenclaw girl, Diana Fairweather. Cho knocked on the glass; Diana looked up from her copy of the Times of London and smiled at Cho.

"Room for one more?" Cho asked as she opened the door.

"Hurry in, then, there's lots to tell you."

Cho stowed her trunk and the cage, then settled in opposite Diana. "What, then?"

There was another stampede of youngsters past the compartment. Diana waited until they'd passed, then leaned forward. "Raina's gone."

Cho turned pale. Raina al-Qaba was another Seventh Year Ravenclaw girl and an Iranian Muslim witch; she and Cho had become fast friends. "Not the Death Eaters?"

"No, her father. I bumped into her at Harrod's about a week ago. She pulled me off to the side and said her family was moving back to Iran. They figured even with the Muggles there so hostile to witchcraft, they were still safer than being here with You Know Who on the loose. Oh, and she gave me a message to give to you."

"Well?"

"Let's see; it was a bit of a poem, I think. 'The bells of the camels lament and cry,…'"

Cho finished the line: "'Bind up thy burden again and depart.'" Diana looked at Cho. "It's from a book of poems she gave me one Christmas. Very appropriate." Cho was afraid she'd start crying if she said more, so she took a deep breath. After a minute, quietly thinking about the friend she'd probably never see again, she said, "How was your summer?"

Diana started to answer, but at that moment the Hogwarts Express lurched forward, taking them to their Seventh Year.

"My summer? Like a troll on the ice; it went by fast and miserable. The weather, the attacks, and all. Got my Apparator's permit but there was damn-all to go to. I wished I could have stayed at school."

"Fear not," said a voice at the door, "you'll be good and sick of the place after the first week." Two of the Seventh Year Ravenclaw boys were now in the compartment: Eddie Carmichael and Giulio Grimaldi. As far back as their First Year they seemed to answer even the simplest question with rude and suggestive remarks; Eddie, at least, had gotten more serious after his O.W.L.s.

"So, ladies," Eddie said as he stowed his trunk, "what shall we talk about: past, present, or future? One's as good as the next, I suppose; they all bloody well suck."

Diana told them about Raina, then Cho interrupted. "Part of the future looks brighter, at least. This year, I'll get the Cup back."

"You're going to split up into seven witches, then?" Giulio smirked.

"Not me personally; I was speaking as Captain."

The others congratulated Cho. The more she'd thought about it during the summer, the more she realized it: she liked the idea of being Captain of the Quidditch team. She still loved flying, after all, and hated summers because there was simply no chance to fly. She wasn't entirely sure that she could keep up with her N.E.W.T. classes and be Captain, but she knew she had to try.

So the four Ravenclaws chatted happily away. Cho told them about visiting Penelope Clearwater (although she left out the part about teaching her to make a Patronus; there'd be too many awkward questions). Diana told the boys about Raina, and they shared memories of knowing her at Hogwarts--except for Grimaldi, who only seemed to have filthy speculations about what Raina looked like under her robes. Before they realized it, more than an hour had gone by.

"Wonder where the lunch trolley is?" Eddie asked. No sooner had he spoken than the door opened. It was their Prefect and Cho's closest remaining friend at Hogwarts, Marietta Edgecombe. At first, Cho was glad to see her, since it looked as if the case of pimples she'd had last year had finally gone away. Then she smelled it: a scent she'd remembered from the makeup display at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. She had managed to cover up the pimples that spelled out the word "SNEAK", but they were still there.

Everything came to a standstill in the compartment. Nobody wanted to say anything, but it was as if they could all see through the makeup to the hideous purple blotches underneath. After a few awkward seconds, Diana stood up, muttering "get to the loo," and moved out into the corridor.

Eddie slapped Grimaldi on the knee. "How about it, mate? Let's hunt down the trolley witch and see what kind of goodies she's got."

"Yeah," Grimaldi grinned, "and we can also see what's on the trolley."

"I'm still a Prefect, you know," Marietta called after them, but the young men were already racing up the corridor through the throng of students, joking and laughing.

"They'll never change," Cho smiled as Marietta sat down. After a second she added, "It looks like you didn't change either."

Marietta bowed her head, pressing her palms to her eyes as if that would stop her from crying. "One month, Cho. I spent half the bloody vacation in St. Mungo's, and nothing's changed." Marietta sighed deeply. "I'd kill for a drink of water, but if this is how everybody'll react…"

"I'll get it for you, then," Cho smiled as she stood. She went out into the corridor, turned to the right, then rushed back into the compartment.

"Marietta," Cho said with dead seriousness, not taking her eyes of her friend, "I want you to look at me, I want us to be having a conversation. It doesn't have to be about anything at all. This is just about me talking to you, and being very serious about it. I want you to nod your head or something…"

"Never mind, Cho."

"What?"

"Harry Potter. He's already gone past."

Cho visibly slumped; now she was the one with her head in her hands. "Oh gods, I'm so pathetic."

"So nothing's changed between you two, either?"

"I wanted things to change; I honestly did! But every time I put quill to parchment this summer to write him, I'd remember that last argument, and I'd lose my nerve. I don't want him barking at me again the way he did last spring."

"Cho, I'm hardly one to speak, but if you like him that much, isn't it worth the risk?"

"I … There's just too much in my cauldron right now."

"There always will be, if you keep that attitude."

"Speaking from experience, are we?"

"So this is your year to be snarky?"

"You're right," Cho sighed; "I'm sorry, Marietta. The thing is, I know what I want, but I have no ideas how to get there."

"Well, just waiting about hasn't worked for me and my face; maybe it'll work for you. You're both still Seekers."

"True." Cho sighed again. "I'm glad he can play again. I know he missed it terribly. I would have missed it, anyway."

"Missed what?" Diana Fairweather had just come back into the compartment, and this safely moved the topic of conversation onto Quidditch and Ravenclaw's chances for the Cup this year.

"We only missed it by a whisker last year," Marietta said. "We've always had a strong side."

"D'you think Potter's Captain of Gryffindor?" Diana asked. Cho shrugged. Actually, she hadn't wanted to talk about that, or even think about it.

Marietta sensed Cho's hesitation and changed the subject: "Anybody heard anything of Roger Davies?"

This moved the conversation onto safely neutral ground for the next hour. Cho, the most experienced Quidditch player in the compartment, actually hung back and said very little. She's only spoken a dozen sentences when she rose to go to the loo.

As she walked down the corridor, the train rocking back and forth, the sky bleak and overcast most of the way, Cho was surprised that she didn't feel more than she did. She thought she'd feel some attachment to the Express heading north for the last time, but there it was: more like an old acquaintance who would always be around, and not like a close friend about to go away on a journey…

Her train of thought was brought up short. Coming out of the boys' lavatory, just ahead of her, was Michael Corner.

Cho walked up to him, not bothering with any pleasantries. "You told me you'd write this summer."

"Yeh, I know I did, but…"

"What happened?"

"My mum happened. As soon as summer started and important witches and wizards started dropping, she forbade me to send any owls out at all!"

"Nothing happened to the Hogwarts owls."

"Hogwarts isn't run by an Unmentionable."

"Wait a minute; your mother…"

"I didn't want to tell you at school, but, if you're going to hold it against me…"

"You made a promise. You hunted me down on the platform this summer to tell me you'd write, and then I got nothing."

"Look, I wanted to write…"

"Will you let me by, please?"

"Damn it, Cho, will you listen for one minute?"

"You had two months; what can you accomplish in one minute?"

"This is-- Look, I have to get back to my mates. I really think we should talk."

"Fine. Wednesday at dinner in the Great Hall."

"You're making me wait four days?"

"I don't have to speak to you at all, you know."

Michael looked at Cho, and seemed to be thinking about whether all this was worth it. Then, he smiled. "Wednesday it is, then. See you later, Captain."

Michael turned to go. Cho had no idea what to make of him anymore. He sought her out, disrespected her, sought her out again, then nothing. As she approached him, she felt a jumble of emotions, but the dominant one was annoyance. She wondered if things would be like that all year.

xxx

No sooner had Cho returned to the compartment than the door burst open, and another Seventh Year Ravenclaw, Marcus Belby, burst into the carriage and knelt at Cho's feet.

"Hide me!" he wailed melodramatically; "For pity's sake, hide me!"

"Get up off of that," Marietta said, having him sit across from her between Cho ate Diana. "And, what have you been eating!"

"He said it was pheasant; some sort of game bird."

"Smells gamey enough," Cho said. "Who said this?"

"New Professor. Horace Slughorn. He invited me to his compartment; I only just escaped."

"Are you telling us he…"

"What? NO!" Belby blushed profoundly. "It was a sort of a dinner party. He invited half a dozen students to sit with him. I'm still not sure I know why. I take it the trolley's already gone?"

Diana reached into her trunk and pulled out a bottle of butterbeer. "There you go," she smiled, handing it to Marcus, "good for what ails you."

"You're a lifesaver," he sighed, as he spelled off the cap and took a long draw. "Anyway, he asked a bunch of students. I was there, and this is embarrassing, because of my uncle, Damocles Belby."

"You never told us he's your uncle!" Cho exclaimed. "He's a genius at Potions!"

"Yeah, well, this is the really dodgy part. I had to tell Slughorn that my dad and his brother, Uncle Damocles, have been on the outs for years, so I hardly see him. So then he moves on to the next victim, and, when he passes the dessert tray around, it manages to get nowhere near me. So I figured he wouldn't care if I excused myself to go to the jakes and ran back here, looking for some friendly faces."

"Anyone ever heard of him?" Diana asked. "What's he teach?"

"He didn't say," Marcus answered, taking another pull on the butterbeer. "But I'm sure I know the name, and he's taught at Hogwarts before. He's in the History, I expect."

Marietta nodded. "Who else was there?"

"There was a Slytherin, Blaise Zabini. Apart from him and me, all the rest were Gryffindors."

"He's probably a Gryffindor himself, then. Anyone we know?" Cho asked.

"In a manner of speaking. Potter was Guest of Honour; he's hardly be anything else. The others were Cormac McLaggen, Neville Longbottom, and the Weasley girl."

Marietta tried not to be obvious as she watched emotions play over Cho's face. Her face had brightened at the mention of Harry Potter, but darkened again at that of Ginny Weasley; she had stolen the Snitch from Cho in the spring to beat Ravenclaw to the House Quidditch Cup.

"So, Cho," Marietta said, changing the subject, "have you seen Jan yet?" Jan was Jane Austen Nugginbridge, the only other girl left in Ravenclaw's Seventh Year.

"We won't be seeing her, will we?" Cho replied. "Not yet. She gets on at the border stop."

"Not this year; she…"

Before Marietta could finish, the door opened. "Wot's not this year, then?"

Cho looked up to see Jan; then, the two of them seemed to freeze with curious looks on their faces. Each was staring at the other's badge: Jan at Cho's badge proclaiming her Quidditch Captain, and Cho at Jan's badge, proclaiming her Head Girl.

xxx

To be continued in part 6, wherein Cho has her last Welcoming Feast, and the Claw Club is formed.


	6. Chapter 6

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

6. The Claw Club

The rest of the trip took just under an hour, and the mood in the compartment was, to put it mildly, subdued. Jan looked at Cho but didn't say anything, Cho looked at Jan but didn't say anything, and the others in the compartment waited for one of them to say something. Finally, as the train slowed for Hogsmeade station, Cho suddenly stood and was out the door and into the corridor. She hadn't gone two steps before she heard Jan.

"Cho! Wait!"

Cho kept walking, although now students were pouring out of the compartments. She felt a hand on her sleeve.

"Cho, lissen…"

She shook free and was out on the platform in a minute. As she looked for the carriages, she felt a hand spin her around. She faced Jan, who had a distraught look on her face.

"I tried to sen' it back!"

"What?"

"The badge. I din't want it. I … I din't deserve it."

This brought Cho up short. It was what she had been thinking during the last hour. She just stood, looking at Jan, as the students flowed around and past them like a river.

Jan seemed unable to stop talking to Cho. "They jus' saw me aroun' Hogwarts but they din't know how I … how I mistreated yeh."

Cho had to ask: "What happened last year?"

"Cedric was killed an' … an' … I ain't never known anyone to die afore. All me parents are alive, an' me grands, an' uncles an' all. An' I was … afraid. Afraid of you. I knew how much Cedric meant teh yeh, and I was afraid I wouldn' know what ter say. I jes … I … What can I say so's you'll believe me?"

Cho had been hurt last year when Jan had apparently abandoned her, at a time when she needed her friends to help her. She now saw the fear and sorrow on Jan's face and, without thinking about it, took Jan's hand in her own.

"You just said it," Cho smiled.

She was about to throw her arms around Jan when Jan was called away; she had to ride in with the Head Boy. "We'll meet inside," Cho smiled; Jan smiled, too.

As Cho found a seat in a carriage with some younger Ravenclaws, she wondered to herself. After last year, I didn't think I could forgive Jan, but it turned out to be so easy. I wonder … could Harry still forgive Marietta?

Or maybe the question is, can Harry forgive me?

xxx

She spent the rest of the ride fending off questions about the Quidditch team's chances; the others had seen the Captain's badge and kept asking if she had anything special planned.

"Yes, yes," she laughed as the carriage pulled up to the great stone steps, "I've loads of plans, but we still need to try them out in practice. And we have to recruit new players…"

It was lucky for Cho that the carriage stopped at that moment, because she realized: one of those players is a new Seeker. After this year, I'm gone. As she got down out of the carriage and walked up the steps to the castle doors, she started seriously thinking about her new responsibilities as Captain—thinking more seriously than she had up until that moment.

Jan was waiting by the doors to the Great Hall. Maybe she sensed something, because she too started asking Cho about Quidditch at once. The two of them went to the Ravenclaw table; then, Jan left to sit at the staff table with the Head Boy, a Hufflepuff named Edgar Rounsenbusch.

"Looks like you had a good summer." Giulio Grimaldi was sitting opposite Cho, his ever-present smirk seemed broader than usual. "So: who'd you have it with?"

"Give it a rest," Diana said.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall appeared, carrying the old stool and Sorting Hat. As Cho had seen happen six times already, the hat, placed upon the stool, opened one seam like a mouth and began to recite:

_I wish that I could sing my rhyme_

_To all of you this year_

_But, though I seem to have a mouth_

_I haven't any ear._

_The tune would be quite horrid_

_And the rhythm, even worse,_

_So we'll all just have to settle_

_For my customary verse._

_Now, you might feel somewhat cheated_

_Or that I've become a bore_

_When I tell you that my message_

_Is a text I've said before,_

_But there is one simple reason_

_For repeating last year's verse:_

_You Know Who is back again_

_And things aren't bad: they're worse._

_When I learned of Amelia Bones_

_It truly saddened me; _

_I met her when she was a child—_

_I Sorted her, you see._

_For centuries I've Sorted_

_And I'll Sort tonight as well,_

_But what may happen after that,_

_I fear no hat can tell._

_I've sent you toward your Houses_

_Which is all that I can do;_

_Where magic takes you in this world_

_Is purely up to you._

_Not Houses and not Hogwarts—_

_It's the world that matters most,_

_Not if you're Snake or Raven,_

_Nor wizard, witch, or ghost._

_So be ye Lion or Badger,_

_When it comes to the fight,_

_It won't help being in one House_

_If you're not in the right._

_And so I say sincerely_

_(Though I haven't got a heart)_

_You'll do much more together_

_Than you ever will apart._

_We can't break into smaller teams_

_To win the larger fight,_

_So when it's time for action,_

_Let all of us unite._

_The bravery of the Lion needs_

_The cunning of the Snake;_

_To trust that one House is enough_

_Will be a grave mistake._

_The wisdom of the Raven_

_Will be most useful, too;_

_The Badger's perseverance_

_Will see the battle through—_

_You all will share the glory_

_And, alas, will share the pain—_

_But if you don't unite, then only_

_You Know Who will gain._

_But now I've said my piece, and so_

_I'll finish, if you please,_

_By Sorting you to Houses_

_That will be your families._

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with her usual scroll listing the First Years. Nothing seemed different about her than the previous six Sortings Cho had seen. Maybe she didn't want to speak of the war, Cho thought; maybe that's Dumbledore's job, and McGonagall wants to keep things as normal as possible.

"Anand, Saraswati."

Even before McGonagall stopped saying the name (which tripped her up just a little bit), a beautiful brown-skinned girl with hair well down her back ran up the aisle toward the hat. She grinned so widely and jumped onto the stool so enthusiastically that many students, including Cho, were delighted by her.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table exploded in cheers as if it had just won the House Cup. Saraswati Anand dashed toward the table and chose a spot next to Padma Patil, who hugged her like a long-lost relative.

"Arbuckle, Roscoe."

A somewhat overweight boy walked more slowly toward the Hat, glancing now and again at the Hufflepuff table. One of the boys there flashed a thumbs-up. When the Hat was placed on his head, it seemed to hesitate a few seconds before it proclaimed:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Looking greatly relieved, Arbuckle went to sit with the other boys. Maybe they were mates in school, Cho thought, and he had to wait a year because of his birthday.

The Sorting went on as it always had until all of the students went to one House or another. Once the Sorting was done, Dumbledore rose from his chair. Cho thought he looked a bit pale.

"There are announcements to be made, but at the moment I, like you, would rather eat than talk. First the Feast, with a helping of folly after!"

The food appeared, and it seemed to be a wider assortment, and more abundant, than ever before. For whatever reason--to reassure the students that all was well despite the return of Voldemort, or just as a way of showing off--the students grabbed at plates, clattering spoons against tureens, and filling goblets from pitchers. The outburst of noise dimmed a minute later as everyone enjoyed the feast.

Almost everyone.

Cho hadn't thought of serving herself. She kept her attention on Dumbledore. She knew that he usually favoured a roasted chicken on occasions like this, but, this time, a shepherd's pie appeared before him. She also noticed him trying to eat it holding his fork in his left hand. He made a few passable attempts, then gave it up after a few mouthfuls.

"What's the matter? Off your feed?" That was Diana Fairweather, who was tucking into a second helping of stew.

"Something's the matter with the Headmaster; haven't you noticed?"

"Some of us think there's been something off with him from First Year." That was Giulio Grimaldi. "I mean, he has this grand reputation, but what's he done here, really? He surely could have done something about the basilisk, but he didn't. He could have put Umbitch in her place, but he didn't. We've had a professor who was a Death Eater impostor..."

"And another who was a werewolf," added Michael Corner. He was across and a few seats away from Cho, and may have been trying to catch her eye; she deliberately refused to look in his direction.

"And either he never knew," Grimaldi went on, "or he knew and did sweet sod-all about it. There's definitely something wrong with the old--"

Eddie Carmichael, Grimaldi's closest friend, stopped him from calling Dumbledore an incredibly rude name. Cho took advantage of the lull to help herself to some stew and a brace of chicken legs. By eating almost continuously after that, she not only didn't have to answer questions, but showed that both her appetites and spirits were back to normal. After her year of mourning for Cedric, she didn't fancy being called a "human hosepipe" ever again.

When Cho finally pushed away her plate, along with most of the others around her, the talk was pretty much over. They were waiting for dessert, for Dumbledore's address, for...

"Merlin's mother!" This was Torrance "Torture" Chambers. "Look at the Gryffs!"

Cho had to turn to see the Gryffindor table ... and Harry Potter, making his way to a seat, in Muggle clothes, with all of his face below his glasses smeared with dried blood.

Cho kept watching, although she had sworn to herself she wouldn't; it was why she sat with her back to the Gryffindors in the first place. But, when Harry turned to Hermione Granger and she performed a Tergeo spell on his face to clean off the blood, she turned back and began helping herself to a pumpkin parfait.

"Wonder what happened to him?" Marietta asked in a whisper.

Cho stopped eating only long enough to say, "I neither know nor care."

The fact was (and Marietta knew it) that Cho had long suspected that Harry was secretly involved with Granger. The fact that Granger had hexed Marietta's face certainly didn't make it easier for Cho to even look at the Gryffindor Muggle-born. She couldn't help imagining them together...

Foolishness, Cho scolded herself. In the meetings last year she was always with Weasley. In the Second Task she was underwater with Weasley—and Krum rescued her, not Harry. There's no reason to worry about her; none at all…

Despite all those articles by Rita Skeeter…

So what? The Skeeter woman's a menace and a fool who couldn't find a fact if it was tied to the end of her wand. I should never have paid attention to a single word from her…

Although Harry told her about the Third Task … that piece in the Quibbler … I was so moved … so proud of him … I couldn't help it … I had to kiss him in the corridor when I saw him … I miss being that close to him … the warmth of him … the scent of him … those green eyes…

Under the table Diana's toe kicked into Cho's shin. Cho looked around, and realized that Dumbledore had stood up at the staff table.

xxx

When Dumbledore dismissed everyone, Cho rose, ready to get out the door as quickly as possible. She wanted to get to Ravenclaw.

"Miss Chang, a word, please."

Professor Flitwick had come down from the head table. Cho knew what this was about, as she followed the Head of Ravenclaw House out of the Great Hall and into an empty classroom.

"I received your owl today, Miss Chang, and I must say it put me in a very awkward position."

"I'm sorry about that, Professor, but this was a change I had to make."

"Yes. Well, you never did explain why you had to make it."

Cho hoped she wasn't blushing too obviously; it felt as if she was. "Professor, when we met for career guidance, you perhaps noticed that I really wasn't, erm, involved with the proceedings…"

"Is that what this is about? Surely you knew that I understood your situation. Between your dedication to Quidditch and your, ahem, affection for Master Diggory, I didn't really expect that anything I had to say would make much difference."

Cho knew she was blushing now. "I'm sorry, Professor; I meant no disrespect. But it's as you said. I thought about my career in terms of being a Seeker, and being with Cedric, and that was all. When he … when he was murdered, I couldn't write back and ask for another conference."

"What made you want to change at all?"

"I, erm, did some private studying last year. I think that my O.W.L.s were high enough, and I've especially improved in Defense."

"Miss Chang, you must let the professors be the judge of that. I admit that most of the faculty wouldn't give you an argument, wanting to start the Auror track in the middle, as it were. Professor Snape teaches Defense now, and Professor Slughorn will be in charge of Potions. Slughorn took a little persuasion, but, as I remembered him being here years ago, I knew your request was possible. Professor Snape will be another matter. He will probably set you an assignment or two in the first week just to see if you're up to speed. If he decides that you are not, then it's out of my hands."

"I understand. Thank you for everything, Professor."

"Don't mention it. Just do me a favour." He glanced at the door to the classroom to make sure they were alone. "Bring the Cup back to Ravenclaw, won't you?"

"I'll do my best," Cho smiled.

xxx

"The Auror track!"

Marietta couldn't keep herself from shouting. Still, it didn't much matter, as they were in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Marietta had waited by the tapestry, knowing that Cho didn't know the new password ("plenipotentiary"), and had gotten more impatient as she waited for Cho to finish her meeting with Professor Flitwick. Rather than go straight up to the dormitory, Cho sat Marietta down and told her what she had planned.

"Do you think I can't handle the work?"

"Don't even try that lark with me, Cho. I know you're smart enough. But there's a war on now; a real war. Don't you think that, if you showed any real promise at all, the Ministry would have you out on the front lines the minute Hogwarts closed in June? And if you didn't have the ability, that's a black mark against your name that you don't even need."

"That's irrelevant, don't you see?"

"Is that what your parents think about it?"

Cho bit her lip. "They don't know. Promise you won't tell them."

Marietta looked at Cho in surprise, then sighed. "What is it your mother calls you: a stubborn little Horse?"

"Something like that," Cho smiled.

"Here, you two," a voice came from the bookcase. It was Marcus Belby, with a half-dozen books in his arms. "Setting a bad example, you are, up after curfew."

Cho glanced at the clock; it was after eleven! She hadn't realized she and Marietta had been talking so long.

Marietta simply looked at Belby. "Can't believe Pince opened up the library early for you."

"She didn't. Flitwick borrowed these from Slughorn for me. I wanted to ask myself, but since I can't hook Slug up with Uncle Damocles…"

"Slughorn and your uncle?" Giulio Grimaldi had just come down from the boys' dormitories with Eddie Carmichael. "Glad my tastes don't run that way. I'm more inclined to the well-endowed female."

"Why don' I do yeh a favour, then?" Jan Nugginbridge had just come in with Diana Fairweather. "I could Hex a pair of tiny hooters on yer forehead. Seems fair, since you have sex on the brain."

Everyone laughed as Diana added, "Yeah, then you could just reach up and grab 'em whenever you're in the mood."

"He'd never leave the dorm, then," Pablo Molina said as he came down from upstairs. "I was wondering where you lot had gone to."

"We're all here for the same reason, aren't we?" Cho asked. Everyone fell silent. "This is it, isn't it?"

They were all clearly thinking the same thing: this was it indeed. This was their last year. After their N.E.W.T.s in June, it would be out into the world—now a more menacing world than any they'd ever known.

"I'd like to propose something," Cho went on. "I've heard stories of Seventh Year witches and wizards hiding important textbooks from the others, just to try to get a better mark than anyone else. Let's not be like that. We should help each other out, in classes and in the N.E.W.T.s."

"I think you're right," Belby nodded. "We're all going to need all the answers with You Know Who back."

Cho hadn't planned it; she simply stood up and held out her hands, to Marietta on her right and Eddie Carmichael on her left. The others joined in, even if they couldn't have said what they were doing or why, until they stood in a circle in the middle of the Common Room.

"Marcus," Cho said, "you were talking about the Slug Club. Let's call this the Claw Club. Seventh Year Ravenclaws helping each other out."

Diana Fairweather nodded. "No hoarding of rare old books, then. If we find something interesting, we share it with the others."

"And if we need to know something," Eddie Carmichael added, "we'll ask and not be turned away."

"Well," Grimaldi grinned, "you know what I'll be asking for."

Everyone had to laugh at that. Far from destroying the mood, it was the way Grimaldi had always been. His rude jokes just made them feel more like a family.

"Well," Pablo said, "tomorrow we get to try it all out, eh?"

With that, they all went up to their dorms.

xxx

To be continued in part 7, wherein Cho finds history repeating itself in the first class of the first day…


	7. Chapter 7

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

7. Back at the Start

The first day dawned as fine and fair as anyone could wish. The feeling was palpable; excitement was contagious. Even though the Seventh Year girls should have been accustomed to everything by now, there was still a sense of newness, of adventure.

When the four oldest Ravenclaw girls came down to the Common Room together, they could hardly believe it. The First Year boys and girls were all over the bookcases, oohing and aahing over the rare and unusual titles in the house library. Two boys were up on the ladder, trying to get at one title and pushing each other away. One actually pushed the other off, but before anyone else could do anything…

"PAUSA!"

Cho looked toward the fireplace, where Luna Lovegood had drawn her wand, and was bringing the falling boy slowly down with a Hover Charm. While Marietta ran to scold the other boy on the ladder, Cho went up to Luna.

"Thanks for doing that. I wouldn't have had the presence of mind."

"Oh, I think you would have," Luna smiled, "if you'd come down earlier and seen them. I thought something like that might happen, the way they were carrying on."

"That was a good spell, by the way."

"I read ahead in Goshawk this summer. It's my O.W.L. year, you know. Plus," Luna glanced across the room at Marietta before whispering, "I wanted to pick up a few things in case the D.A. started up again. Do you think it will?"

At that moment, Jan called to Cho from the bookcase. Cho gave Luna a quick "Let's just wait and see," before she dashed out of the Common Room.

When she got to the Great Hall, she had lost all of her appetite. She took a sip of pumpkin juice, decided it was too heavy, and just drank water. Luna's mention of Dumbledore's Army reminded Cho of her last conversation with Harry Potter. "Conversation" wasn't quite the word; like the Hogsmeade date, it ended up being a fiasco. She had tried to appeal to Harry to get the pimple jinx lifted from Marietta, but he made it clear that he despised Marietta for what she had tried to do, and would never forgive her, and things just went downhill from there, with the pair of them shouting things at each other that Cho regretted almost immediately afterwards… Little wonder she had no appetite.

She sat, half-hearing what the others were saying and only slightly involved in the conversation, until Professor Flitwick came down from the Head Table to pass out the class schedules.

"Just remember, Miss Chang," the diminutive teacher said as he placed the parchment in front of her, "if you have trouble keeping up, it's no dishonour to drop a class."

"If I have trouble keeping up, I hardly deserve to have been Sorted into Ravenclaw. But, thank you, Professor."

Flitwick simply gave a sigh and moved on to the next student, shuffling parchment as he walked.

It's sweet of him to worry, Cho thought. I won't let him down.

When she looked at the schedule, however, she got a shock.

xxx

Less than an hour later, she was in the queue waiting to enter the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for Seventh Years. As it was on her very first day at Hogwarts, her first class would be with Professor Severus Snape. And not even Potions; Snape was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, a course she would otherwise have felt whole-heartedly about.

But then, she still remembered the green-eyed Dark Arts instructor last year…

Cho found herself among about two dozen Seventh Year students, from all four Houses, in the Dark Arts classroom that morning. Actually, she was surprised at first that there weren't more students, especially after the summer they had all endured. Wizards and Muggles being killed and cursed, giants and dementors out and about…

Pablo Molina was probably thinking the same thing; he leaned past Marietta to Cho and whispered, "Maybe we're the only ones whose O.W.L.s were good enough."

Before Cho could answer, Professor Snape made his entrance. That's the only way to put it: he opened the classroom door abruptly, slammed it loudly behind him, strode noisily with robes flying to the front of the class, turned and stared at the class almost angrily.

I don't get it, Cho thought; it's no secret that Snape always wanted to teach Dark Arts. So, now that he has his wish, why does he look like he hates being a teacher?

Most of the students had the required textbooks out of their satchels and on their desks: _Confronting the Faceless, Light Shall Be Your Shield, _and _Magick Most Evile_. Some of the students, waiting for Snape to say anything at all, had their hands on their books.

"I have not asked you to open your books!" Those with their hands on their textbooks withdrew them as if they were tarantulas. "I want your full attention for what I am about to say.

"Because this is your Seventh Year at Hogwarts Academy, you have all had six years in which to study the Dark Arts—in theory, at least." He broke off to survey the room full of students again, reminding Cho of Umbridge looking for wrongdoers. "I regret that your education up until now has been … less than thorough. However, it is not my place to criticise either the Academy or the Ministry. My task is to supply your deficiencies as quickly and thoroughly as possible, and to do so in a subject in which one can spend a lifetime of study without ever fully reaching its depths.

"The Dark Arts are many and varied, ever-changing and eternal. They can no more be eliminated than any other branch of the magical arts, so none of you should feel that you will simply pass your N.E.W.T.s, leave this school, and play the hero by defeating those who practice the Dark Arts. This class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts for a very good reason: defense is in fact all that most wizards will ever be capable of. And defense itself will be much more complicated than it sounds. For the Dark Arts are perhaps the most complicated, multi-faceted branch of magic. The magic of the Dark Arts is limited only by the minds of those who use it. Wizards and witches have devoted their lives to the study of the Dark Arts, and your dedication to defending yourselves against those arts must be no less thorough. If you look about you, you can see the consequences of failure to properly defend oneself."

The walls of the Dark Arts classroom had been decorated over the break; now, the students could see pictures of victims of various curses and monsters. Neither the living nor the dead in the pictures seemed to have been able to defend themselves against anything.

"We shall begin," Snape interrupted "with non-verbal spells. You are all novices in the use of non-verbal spells, are you not…" Snape scanned the classroom before settling on a suitable victim: "Miss Chang?"

Even as she stood to answer the question, Cho knew that all he wanted was a simple "yes." However, once she was on her feet, she had a moment of inspiration, and her mind raced ahead of her good sense.

"Actually, Professor, we've all had experience of non-verbal spells. It's one of the ways magic manifests itself in childhood, and how our families know we're magical in the first place. Of course," she added, "this magic is involuntary."

Snape had neither expected nor wanted this answer. He and Cho looked at each other for a moment, as if sizing each other up for the first time. "A minor distinction, Miss Chang," Snape finally said in a voice full of scorn, "but I'm sure you'll agree a crucial one. That was a technically correct answer, and it will cost Ravenclaw House ten points for inaccuracy, and another ten points for sarcasm."

Eddie Carmichael was halfway up on his feet to protest when Jan grabbed his robes. "It's not worth it," she whispered.

"Divide up into pairs. One of you will try to cast a hex, while the other tries to repel it—in silence."

"This is a load of toss," Marietta muttered as she and Cho moved to one wall. "How are we supposed to know what to defend against?"

"It's no matter," Cho replied. "Just use a Shield charm."

"Erm, why don't I try hexing you first?"

"Fine with me," Cho smiled.

At first, Cho wasn't concentrating on the lesson. It all seemed so much like Dumbledore's Army—except that Snape was, of course, no Harry Potter. She was unable to block a small dose of the Lacryma hex—ironically, one that brought on uncontrollable crying. Marietta started apologising.

"Don't worry," Cho sniffed as she tried to compose herself. "Actually, after last year, it's quite funny."

Marietta applied the counter-hex. "Thanks. Anyway, that's good progress for you, doing that without speaking."

"It was what you said about magic when we were kids. That gave me the clue about how to do it. Want to try again?"

By the time the first class was over, most of the Ravenclaws had been able to cast a non-verbal spell, either a minor hex or a shield. Cho was one of the last of them to pick up on the technique, because she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how the class had seemed to pick up from Dumbledore's Army, and how Marietta still couldn't remember a bit of what she'd done last year, and the irony of it all…

xxx

The next class was as different as could be. Unlike Snape, who would always be Snape (as Diana put it, "He'd have to be at death's door to be even a bit human"), Seventh Year Potions at first looked as if it were being taught by the Jolly Old Victorian Uncle from a Prangboller novel. This was Cho's first chance to see Horace Slughorn, although Marcus Belby had already had that honour on the Express. Along with Cho and Marcus, Diana and Marietta were the remaining Ravenclaws in the class; Cho didn't recognize most of the others, except for Bettony McQuinch and some of the other Hufflepuffs with whom Ravenclaw used to share Double Potions.

Slughorn rubbed his hands together briskly as if he were freezing. "All present and accounted for, eh? Very good, very good." He checked a scroll on his desk. "Let me see, Filius Flitwick mentioned something about … Ah, yes, you would be Miss Chang, then?" Cho had not even finished nodding her head before Slughorn was rereading the scroll. "Any relation to Victor Cheng at Gringotts? Continental banking liaison, you know."

To Cho, there was as much difference between Chang and Cheng as between Smith and Jones. She could practically hear her mother's voice inside her head dismissing Slughorn as just another ignorant white wizard as she said, "No sir, no relation."

"Quidditch Captain, I see." He had noticed the badge on Cho's robes. "And a Ravenclaw to boot. Mens sana in corpore sano; words I haven't been able to live by for years, I'm afraid. So, what exactly do your parents do?"

Before Cho could answer, Belby spoke up, perhaps trying to get back into Slughorn's good graces. "Her family has a very fine apothecary in Diagon Alley."

Even though Cho would probably have given the same answer, Slughorn gave a fleeting glance at Cho. "Ah, so they're … merchants." He made it sound like some sort of disease, not lethal but unfortunate. He moved on to the Hufflepuffs.

"Sorry," Marcus whispered to Cho. Cho, for her part, didn't hold anything against Marcus, but she no longer saw Slughorn as a Jolly Old Victorian Uncle.

Eventually, Slughorn got down to business, talking about the three large batches of potion that were brewing when they entered the Potions dungeon: Veritaserum ("For those of you who make it through to be Aurors, it'll be one of the tools of your trade"), Polyjuice, and Amortentia. As Slughorn nattered on about the risks of love potions, Cho glanced over at Bettony McQuinch, whose cheeks were blazing crimson. They could both recall Snape, back in Third Year, assigning them a massive essay about Tristan and Iseult and the dangers of artificially-induced love, just because Bettony had asked about love potions.

"Now, down to business," Slughorn finally declared. "Turn to page 256 in "Advanced Potion Making." You'll see the formula for the Draught of Peace, similar in many respects to the Draught of Living Death, except for one or two ingredients. And the effect, of course. So, everybody, whip up a batch, leave a sample for me to judge, and for next time write up two scrolls comparing and contrasting the two potions, their history and their effects. Off you go!"

As the rest of the class was setting up their cauldrons and gathering ingredients, Marietta whispered "Claw Club" to the other Ravenclaws. The others decided to follow Marietta's lead, although Cho was the only one who knew why. The year before, when Cho was given to nightmares and sudden bursts of crying in her grief over Cedric's murder, Marietta had to become adept at preparing the Draught of Peace in case Cho needed it.

So Cho, Diana, and Marcus followed Marietta's lead more than Borage's textbook, especially when it came time to add oil of valerian root. Instead of the time-consuming process of mincing the root, Marietta simply pressed it with the flat side of a silver dagger, which produced more than enough oil.

"How did you know to do that?" Diana whispered.

"Purely by accident. One time my knife slipped; came down flat on the root, there was oil all over the place." Marietta glanced at Cho and smiled as she whispered, "This potion and me, we're old friends."

Cho smiled, too, as she scooped the oil up into her cauldron. How could Harry have expected Cho to side with the DA against Marietta? Well, there was her running to Umbridge, but still there were so many sides to the question Harry just didn't know…

xxx

After lunch, Cho repacked her book bag and set off for Hagrid's hut for her only Monday afternoon class. This was one class her parents knew about and approved of her taking; Care of Magical Creatures, at least, had something to do with the family business. The family had won a Ministry contract to supply food for various kinds of magical creatures, and Cho was expected to know enough about magical creatures to help keep up the terms of the contract.

Of course, Cho had no such plans. Staying in the shoppe, or more accurately, hiding in the shoppe, was not her idea of defending oneself against Voldemort and his minions, or launching any kind of counterattack. If it were up to her, she would have been studying something really useful, under a better teacher than Rubeus Hagrid. However, this would probably be the easiest N.E.W.T. she would earn all year, and would be worth the little bit of time she had to put into it.

But when she got to the paddock outside Hagrid's hut, she saw that she was the only one there. She waited five more minutes, ten more minutes. Would she be the only Care of Magical Creatures Seventh Year in all of Hogwarts?

She kept seeing the curtains rustle slightly in Hagrid's hut. He was obviously thinking the same thing that she was: this was an embarrassing way to start the year. Still, nobody else came, and eventually, the huge groundskeeper came out of his cottage, carrying a birdcage in one hand.

"Well, then," he smiled, speaking with an enthusiasm so forced that Cho immediately felt sorry for him, "quality over quantity, eh? Let's get on wi' it, then. Good the see yer back, Miss Chang."

"Thank you."

"Right. Erm. Not, this little beastie here." Hagrid set the cage down in front of Cho; it contained what seemed to be an oversized ferret. "This is one of those creatures I'm not supposed ter teach until Seventh Year."

The reason why this harmless-looking animal was kept back for older students became obvious when it looked up at Hagrid through the bars of its cage and spoke: "Come here and suck my …"

Cho and Hagrid both blushed. "Yeh, erm, well, any ideas wot this is?"

Cho remembered Scamander's description of an animal mimicking human speech—very rude human speech. "That's a, a Jarvey, isn't it?"

"Well done," Hagrid nodded.

"Kiss my arse," the Jarvey added.

Hagrid's face got even redder.

Cho drew her wand. "May I, professor?" Hagrid nodded. "Silencio!"

The Jarvey was cut off in mid-obscenity.

"Sorry abou' that," Hagrid muttered.

"It's all right," Cho smiled. "Reminds me of one of the boys in my year. The Jarvey doesn't live in the wild, does it?"

"Well, yeh, but it lives underground. It's a burrower, yeh see."

"Then it can't really mimic human speech, can it, if it hardly hears any. It doesn't even know how rude it is. So how did it learn to speak like that?"

The question seemed to embarrass Hagrid worse than the obscenities. "Yeh, well, Scamander's book don' say, does it?"

"Maybe it heard some hunters and decided to mimic them. To defend itself."

Hagrid thought about this for a minute. "I dunno; maybe. Funny thing is, it's only been found where people speak English."

It wasn't a class a Ravenclaw would have enjoyed, with Cho speculating on the origins of the Jarvey, and Hagrid unable to do much more than listen to her speculations. Still, by the time the hour ended and Cho walked back toward Hogwarts, her old opinion of Hagrid as one of Hogwarts' worst teachers had been largely undone.

Largely.

xxx

To be continued in part 8, wherein Cho keeps her appointment with Michael Corner…

A/N: Slughorn quotes an old Latin motto: "A healthy mind in a healthy body."


	8. Chapter 8

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

8. Begin Again

"So it was just Hagrid and me talking about this foul-mouthed little bird. I swear it would have made Grimaldi blush!"

Wednesday evening, Cho hesitated a bit before going down to supper. This would be her first extended time with Michael Corner. She had said he was not to speak to her until Wednesday supper, and he'd kept to that. Even though they had passed each other several times in the corridors or in the Common Room, Michael had done no more than nod to her in passing.

Why was Michael like this, Cho wondered as she walked with Marietta to the Great Hall. She had set the terms of their friendship, and he was respecting them. He had done the same thing in the spring, for that matter, and they had gotten along perfectly—until the picnic by the lake. Well, obviously, he wasn't about to try groping her there in front of the whole school, but still…

They took their seats at the Ravenclaw table, with Cho at the place where she sat and talked with Michael during his O.W.L.s. And, five minutes later, Michael sat in his same space.

He began, a bit sheepishly, "I expect that I'm…"

"Neither forgiven nor forgotten," Marietta put in.

"Let me speak for myself," Cho stopped her friend. After a pause, she went on, "Although she's right. You said you wanted to talk, though."

"I didn't expect an audience."

"This 'audience' is my friend and your Prefect. You should be able to speak in front of her."

"It's just, well, have you ever had a monster in your chest?"

"A WHAT!"

"Look, I know it sounds like rubbish, but it's the only way I can explain it. At the time, by the lake, I got caught up in the moment, and something inside me said, well, that you and I were thinking the same thing."

"You should know better than to trust impulses like that. Especially since that one was dead wrong."

"Yeh, I know that now. Anyway, it just felt at the time like the thing to do; you know what I mean?"

Cho's own experience with Chest Monsters had been limited to her jealous flare-ups against Hermione Granger: a time when her Ravenclaw reason abandoned her and her worst, most jealous, fears seemed to make perfect sense. "Seems to me, then, that we should just agree not to bother with chest monsters. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Michael nodded happily. Only then did he turn his eyes away from Cho and start loading his plate with Welsh rarebit and sausage. "So, how was your summer?"

"Yours first," Cho said as she helped herself to some sole.

"Not that much to tell. As I said on the train, my mum went off like a dragon when Amelia Bones was killed. Had the whole family on lockdown: no owls, no floo."

"Speaking of O.W.L.s," Cho began.

"Yeah, this is my first chance to tell you. Eight E's and an O—in, erm, Dark Arts." Michael glanced nervously at Marietta, unsure how she would react. But Marietta, as Cho had warned him, seemed to remember nothing of Dumbledore's Army.

"I really wanted to send you something when I got the news," Michael went on. "I think I owe a lot of that to you."

"And a dozen other Ravenclaws, I'm sure," Cho said, taking up a forkful of fish and avoiding Michael's eyes.

"No, I mean it! You'd already taken the exams, you see, and you knew what they'd be like. And I could trust your version of the tests; you know what rumours can be like around here."

"So all you did was stay home all summer?"

"Well, there was sweet, erm, I mean, there was little enough to do, wasn't there? Between the weather and the attacks. I'd heard someone in Diagon Alley say that werewolves were getting together again."

"Let's hope that's just another rumour," Cho shivered.

"Well, as long as we're here, we can all look out for each other."

"We?"

"Hogwarts, I mean; the whole school. There should be enough talent and experience here to keep us all safe, right?"

Cho nodded, and smiled, and realized that things had thawed out between them, to the point that they again were the friends they'd been in the spring. From that moment, they both seemed to relax, as Michael talked about his family's very brief outing to Bristol in August, and Cho talked of her visit to Penelope Clearwater. By the time dinner was over, and most of the students had left the Great Hall, Cho was on about her classes that week.

"Funny how Snape's disposition seems to have gotten worse, even though he's finally made Defense teacher."

"Yeh, there's another rumour altogether. Which side you figure he's really on?"

"I can't take that talk seriously," Marietta, who had basically sat back and listened, finally interrupted. "He's still here, isn't he? If he'd been in league with You Know Who, would he still be here?"

"Perhaps, if he was a spy."

"That's just foolish, Michael," Cho replied. "There's Dark detection all over Hogwarts, from Aurors to Kneazles. Snape couldn't hope to fool them all if he really were against Dumbledore."

"Plus he'd be the first suspect, wouldn't he, given his past," Marietta added. "You wouldn't make much of a spy if everybody thought you'd be one anyway."

"Fine, fine," Michael chuckled, "point taken. At least he's teaching real stuff, advanced stuff."

"Well, we all have a lot of catch-up to do."

"Speaking of which, ladies, I have a couple of essays to get to tonight."

"Is it that late? I hadn't noticed."

"And he's not the only one," Marietta added, looking a bit darkly at Cho.

"Well, then," Michael smiled as he stood up, "I'll see you around the Common Room."

"Not for the next few days. I have the team tryouts to worry about."

"On the subject, did you ever look at those other brooms we spoke of?"

Cho started to blush and looked down at the table, recalling with shame the way she mistreated her broom after losing the Cup. "Haven't had the chance, really. I'll just stick with the Comet."

"Let's hope that's a good choice. See you." And Michael turned abruptly and left the hall.

The second he was out of the door, Marietta turned to Cho. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Is this what you wanted? Getting back with Michael…"

"I was never really WITH Michael!"

"…because you said Harry was being a full-blown prat. Do you really think Michael's learned his lesson?"

"Well, he just … I … To tell the truth," Cho sighed, "I just don't know. He doesn't seem to have changed a lot over the summer, for better or worse."

"While you have."

"You mean about Cedric? No more nightmares? There's that change, yes, but for the rest, I just don't know about myself, either."

"You said last spring you wanted to get on with some boy. You didn't exactly drop Harry like a hot cauldron, despite the row you got into."

"It's not just that!" Cho said, blushing again. "I mean, well, Harry said some awful things, but I'm not holding that against him and forgetting the other times, the nice moments we had together."

"Look, Cho, it's all well and good to forgive them both, but you'll have to make a choice some time, and I don't exactly see Potter trying to chat you up in the corridors."

"You're not telling me to go out with Michael, are you?"

"If it were up to me, I'd say that it's our N.E.W.T. year and let the pair of them go shift for themselves. Not many couples last too long around Hogwarts, anyway."

"It was six months for me and Cedric."

Cho looked as if she were going to scold Marietta, but the Prefect cut her off by taking Cho's hand in her own. "I understand all that," Marietta said quietly, "and the two of you were blessed to have that kind of love for as long as you did. Personally, I don't think I'll ever have that kind of luck. I'm just, well, I wonder if I'll ever see any of that kind of luck."

"I hope so," Cho smiled. "It's not all heartache and misery, you know." Then she slid her hand out from under Marietta's.

"Just don't settle for less than what you really want," Marietta went on. "You shouldn't be with a boy just to be with a boy. That defeats everything you've been through. Make sure he's the best one."

Cho nodded, hoping she wouldn't start crying. Not over Cedric this time, but because of her friend Marietta, for whom Cho's happiness was so important.

xxx

To be continued in part 9, wherein Cho holds Quidditch tryouts…


	9. Chapter 9

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

9. Team Work

As soon as she left the Great Hall that Wednesday evening, Cho went up to her room in Ravenclaw and dashed off a quick note:

"Dear Roger,

By now, I'm sure you heard that they made me Captain. I wish I could have avoided it, but here it is and Ravenclaw expects me to do my best. I just never thought in these terms before. Maybe I'm being a nuisance, or maybe I don't have the right to ask, but I could use a little help in figuring how to hold the tryouts. We have to replace…" She struck the last part. "I have to replace quite a few players beside you, including the reserves, and I would appreciate any helpful advice you could send me by this Sunday."

Even as Cho signed the parchment, even as she attached it to Quan Yin's leg and sent her off to find Roger Davies, she knew what would happen. Roger's feelings for her had been decidedly mixed: he respected her as a Seeker, and also confessed that he found himself attracted to her. Cho couldn't handle that; she simply didn't feel that way about him.

Friday night, Quan Yin returned, with the message to Roger still intact and unanswered. Cho expected as much, and found she was actually relieved. She was still clueless as to how to proceed, with two days before tryouts, but she was actually relieved that Roger wouldn't complicate things any more than they already were.

xxx

Sunday morning after breakfast, she went back up to her dormitory room. The weather seemed to be more pleasant than Saturday, with sunny skies and a light breeze, although still cool. She didn't know if she herself would be flying or not during the tryouts; as usual, though, after a summer away from her broom, she really felt as if she wanted, needed, to just fly and fly and fly. It's what witches do, after all, she told herself; no, she scolded herself, that's not it. It's what I do. It's what I was born here and now to do. She chose a pair of jeans—not too loose, not too tight, but showing enough ankle to indicate she'd grown another couple of inches without realizing it—and a pullover shirt, pinned on her captain's badge, put the sign-up list into her pocket and went out to the stadium.

She was on the pitch an hour before the tryouts were supposed to be held. She went into Madam Hooch's office, got the case of Quidditch balls, and took it out onto the pitch. Nobody was in the stands yet. Good; she didn't want anyone around to see what might happen next. She went to where the team brooms were kept, and there it was: her Comet Two Sixty, just where it was supposed to be. Madam Hooch must have brought it in after that final disastrous game. She didn't pin a note to Cho on the broom, and Cho was glad for that; it would have been too much. She felt bad enough about what she'd done as it was.

She was almost afraid to touch the broom as she took it down, feeling the heft of it, balancing it as if she had never ridden it before, afraid that any growth spurt over the summer would make the broom too small for her now, useless to her, or perhaps the broom itself would resent what she had done…

She took the broom out onto the pitch, settled onto it, and was in the air in a second. At that moment, instinct—maybe hers, maybe the broom's, maybe both—took over, and Cho sailed quickly around the stadium, climbing, diving, looping, hovering in place then going into a controlled power dive.

It's still here, Cho smiled, still inside me. I never lost it.

She continued flying for half an hour until she saw a small body in the stands, looking even smaller from her height, now almost level with the Astronomy Tower. She quickly dropped down to the pitch, then walked over to the spectator.

It was the young witch who had been the first Sorted into Ravenclaw this year. Cho fished the list out of her pocket. "Miss Anand, is it?"

The girl nodded happily. "The name's Sarasvati, but you can call me Sara; everybody does."

As she did at the Sorting, Cho couldn't help but smile; this girl just naturally seemed to cheer her up. "Have you done much flying, then, Sara?"

"Just this past year. I mean, my family's had flying carpets forever, but I just started on a broom."

"I suppose you've already had a class with Madam Hooch."

"Yes, and it was very easy. I was quite surprised."

"And you're going out for the team, then?"

"Well, _Hogwarts: A History_ says First Years aren't supposed to be on the House teams."

"Did _Hogwarts: A History _also tell you that an exception was made a few years ago?"

"They let a First Year on?!"

Cho nodded, and tried to suppress the thrill in her voice, but it came out anyway: "Harry Potter."

"Then there's a chance for me?!"

"Well, I'll have to see you fly first," Cho laughed. "That's what tryouts are for."

"I know all about that," Sara nodded. "I watched the Gryffindor tryouts the other day."

"You did?" Cho asked, trying to sound casual. "How, erm, how was it?"

"Well, it was a bit of a muddle at first. So many people showed up that didn't even want to play on the team. Just wanted to see Potter, I expect. But he had them doing speed trials and that sorted them out. Then he went through picking players for the positions. Funny thing, though."

"What was funny?"

"He never picked an alternate Seeker."

"I expect he doesn't plan to miss any matches this year." But Sara had brought up a point, Cho realized. She'd have to keep an eye out for a replacement Seeker, if only to take over the position next year. If there is a next year for Quidditch at Hogwarts—no! This is Quidditch, not the DA. Don't overthink this, even if you are a Ravenclaw.

By now, a few of the names on the list were entering the stadium, as were returning members of the team. Cho recognized them at once and waved them over.

One of the new arrivals waved back, and Cho realized it was Luna Lovegood. Luna dashed over to sit on Cho's other side. "Lovely day, isn't it?" she said. Cho could see that Luna was wearing some of her odd jewelry again; this time, it was a necklace made of seaweed decorated with small shells.

"Going out for the team?" Cho asked.

"Probably not," Luna smiled at Cho, or at least in Cho's direction; as usual, her gaze seemed to be focused somewhere else. "I love flying, but Thestrals are more in my line. Too bad we can't use Thestrals instead of brooms. That's how they play Quidditch in Transylvania, you know."

Cho simply nodded without answering; what could anyone say to that?

When everybody who had signed up was there (along with a few spectators), Cho got up and walked out onto the pitch to face the others. She'd never done this before, actually saying and doing things as a Quidditch captain, and her captain's badge suddenly felt as heavy as a hippogriff.

"Yes. Well. Erm, sorry," she almost chuckled. She knew she was starting to blush, but couldn't stop it. "I guess I'm just still used to being on the team instead of running it."

"Doing fine so far," Pablo Molina smiled.

That reassurance from another Seventh Year, another Quidditch veteran, was what Cho needed at that moment. She took a breath and went on.

"We're here to fill spots on the team, which is why we do this every year. But we're also filling spots for the next year, and maybe the year after that. I want us to win the Cup, of course, but we'll only do that by building a side that's very well rounded and well developed. We all know that Quidditch is never as easy as it looks, and sometimes it looks harder than Arithmancy."

Some of the Ravenclaws chuckled at that. But one of them piped up, "Speak for yourself; I _like_ Arithmancy!" That made them all laugh, including Cho.

"Right. Well, no more speeches, then. I know we have one First Year here; are there any others?" Four or five hands went up. "Give us three laps around the pitch, then."

Most of them couldn't quite manage the full three laps. One wizard got off the ground, then proceeded to plow into two of the others, sending them all to the ground. "No fair," the one who caused the pile-up complained in a thick Liverpudlian accent; "you didn't tell us which direction."

Cho was partly amused and partly frustrated. Is this what Roger had to put up with? "Sorry, but you were Sorted into Ravenclaw; you should have been able to figure that out for yourself. Pick yourselves up and try again."

They did try, but only two of them finished the three laps without mishap; Sara was one of them.

"Good job, Sara," Cho smiled, and Sara smiled back radiantly. This reminded Cho of what Sara had told her about the Gryffindor tryouts the day before. "Everybody else, now. Get on the pitch with your brooms, and line up." She had them count off by fours. "One group at a time, we'll be going for the fastest flying you can do."

Each group had a returning player or two; they ended up setting the pace for the others to follow. There were only one or two mishaps. Maybe it was this lack of accidents that told Cho that, while some of them were fast, they still weren't fast enough.

"Right. I want you to do that again, then, all of you, and I want it faster."

"Not me," said a Third Year named Stewart Ackerley, who nearly went into the stands taking a turn a bit too wide. "My parents want me to become a Healer, not visit one."

"Well, that's not really the right attitude for Quidditch," Cho told Stewart, then addressed the rest of them. "It's never been a safe game; if you read the history, you'll see that. And it's not because Quidditch is more dangerous than, say, tending carnivorous plants or trying to tame dragons. And it's not that the really great players, like Murray or Llewellyn, were mad. They did everything they could think to do, they went as fast as they could, and then pushed it a little bit faster. Sometimes they lost control, but more often they found that they had it in themselves to get the control back. And the next time they'd push a little faster and a little farther, just to see how much control they could still find in themselves."

"You expect us to do that?" asked another Third Year, Orla Quirke.

"I'm not asking you to be professional Quidditch players," Cho smiled, "but I need to know if you can think like one. The ones who can, even just a bit, can be useful in the kind of team we need to put together. Group One, then; try it again, and this time remember to push yourselves, and each other, just a bit more."

That seemed to do the trick. The rest of the tryouts saw Cho in much better spirits, since she'd seen all of the Ravenclaws improve in the speed trials. They really were flying at their best.

After that, she had them go around again, only with a Quaffle among them. Some, like Quirk, couldn't fly and handle a foreign object at the same time. Others, however, took to it readily.

It was lunchtime before any of them seemed to notice it. By then, Cho had weeded out those who were merely good fliers, focusing on those who were able to handle objects like Quaffles and bats with ease while flying. "Great job, everyone," Cho told the others. "Most of last year's team is still here, but we need a strong set of reserves, and you never know when they'll be needed. Besides, as I said, we're also building a team for the future. I'll post the results in a day or two. So, let's just call it a day. Pablo, can I have a quick word with you?"

As most of the others left the stadium, chatting animatedly about what had gone on in the tryouts, Cho approached Pablo Molina, a Chaser whose parents forbade him to play the year before because of his grades.

"How's it going, then?" Cho asked.

"Not too badly," Pablo smiled. Cho took that to mean that his marks were high enough now so that his parents felt comfortable with him playing Quidditch again.

"Even though this is our N.E.W.T. year?"

"That's right. Funny thing, I…" He glanced into the stands, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I couldn't have done it without old Umbitch. She asked us to do so little, I just played along and got decent marks for doing next to nothing. The rest came easy."

"Somehow I doubt this year will be easy, in anything."

"Just don't give it another thought, Captain Chang. The Cup is ours this year."

They were almost the last ones left in the stadium. Pablo shouldered his broom and left; Luna Lovegood, who had been reading the Quibbler in the stands, closed the magazine and followed. Cho returned the equipment to the box, stopping before she closed it to run her fingers over the so-familiar Snitch.

"May I touch that?"

It was Sara Anand; Cho hadn't realized that the First Year was still there. She was standing behind Cho and looking down at the box. It was a look Cho recognized at once.

"Come here," Cho smiled, speaking barely above a whisper.

Sara knelt beside Cho and ran one fingertip along the surface of the Snitch. "I never saw one up close before. I like the way it feels alive," Sara said after a minute. "I want one as a pet."

"Nobody can tame a Snitch," Cho laughed, "which is why Seekers have to chase after them." Cho paused. "Is that what you want, then, Sara?"

"Yes, please. I'd like to be a Seeker."

Cho realized in that moment that, even if it seemed horribly vain, this must be the reason why fate had made her Captain. She was expected to return the favour that Madam Hooch had done her years ago. She would train Sara Anand to be a Seeker.

For now, Cho just smiled at the First Year. "We can talk about it after lunch."

xxx

To be continued in part 10, wherein Cho visits Hogsmeade on a disastrous day…


	10. Chapter 10

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

10. Horror in Hogsmeade

Cho ate a light lunch after the tryouts, then went up to her dormitory and started trying to fill out the Quidditch roster. It was actually fairly easy; easier than she'd feared, at any event. She still had to replace the Beaters and Keeper, but she thought she'd found some likely prospects among those who could fly while wielding a bat or grabbing a Quaffle.

Keeper first, then. One very obvious candidate jumped out of the pack: a Sixth Year named Kevin Entwhistle. Cho had seen him around Hogwarts, but he'd never impressed her as anything special. Now, however, she had reason to remember him; he'd shot up during his time in Hogwarts and now stood just over six feet tall. He wasn't the most acrobatic flier that day, but he could maneuver a broom with one hand and stop a Quaffle with the other. His hand was large enough, in fact, to clutch the Quaffle in mid-flight. Stopping it the way a Seeker would stop a Snitch. It was surprising that Roger hadn't spotted him sooner; perhaps Entwhistle never wanted to go out for Quidditch, or waited until his O.W.L.s were behind him.

In any event, he had enough raw talent to be listed as a Regular; the Reserve Keeper spot could be filled by someone younger, who would need a year to absorb the fine points of the game. There weren't many choices, but Cho decided to place Sheridan as the Reserve Keeper.

Rowena Sheridan.

Even as she wrote the name on the parchment, Cho felt a thrill go through her hand and up her arm. Not because Sheridan was such a great Keeper –although Cho was sure she would be in time. This was about continuing what Roger and Mackie had started: adding witches to a Ravenclaw team that, for whatever reason, had gone almost a century as an all-male Quidditch team. Cho knew that she'd have to find out the whys and wherefores of it this year, time and N.E.W.T.s permitting.

That reminded her: she wrote down "Sara Anand" as Reserve Seeker. She was sure that Madam Hooch wouldn't put up much of an objection, and that they could both talk to Professor Flitwick if he made an issue about Sara being a First Year. After all, a precedent had been set.

Harry.

She'd thought about him on the train, and every day since they'd been back at Hogwarts, one way or another. She'd even deliberately waited to send her mother's birthday present until the first Saturday morning of the fall term, and waited around in the Owlery that morning for more than two hours, on the off chance that Harry would come up again. But he never did. She finally sent off her package, and walked back to Ravenclaw, at first feeling like the biggest fool in Hogwarts. Then she remembered the chat she's had with Harry last year, and by the time she reached the tapestry she was back to wishing for another chance to see him, to be with him…

Stop that! The Beaters!

The pickings were much slimmer here. Both the Beaters she'd played with for years, Jenkins and Becksnee, were gone now. She'd have to replace them. The simplest would be to move the Reserve Beaters up to Regulars. But the Reserves, Teddy Bufidius and Emil Cargon, weren't much better than the talent she'd seen at tryouts.

Well, she sighed, a touch of experience is better than none at all. Besides, we have until winter and the match with Hufflepuff to sort this out. Maybe I can schedule some extra Beater drills—target practice…

She wrote in Bufidius and Cargon as Regular Beaters, and chose a pair of Third Years, Martin Elna and Clarinda Knogg, as Reserves. Again, Cho felt satisfied in being able to put a witch in position to be a Regular for Ravenclaw, if only in the future.

Cho made copies of the scroll for Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick, then took the original scroll down to the Common Room to post on the notice board. Sara Anand was already there.

"Captain, you said we'd talk after lunch."

Very bold, Cho thought, and very determined. Just like I was. She pinned the scroll onto the board and turned to Sara. "Well," Cho smiled, "this'll give us something to talk about."

Sara dashed up to the board, read the notice, then turned speechless toward Cho.

"I know you need experience in the game," Cho said, "and if you're willing to learn some of the fine points, I can teach them to you. By this time next year, I'll be graduated and Ravenclaw will need a Seeker again. If you really want to be one, your training will have to start right away. Is that what you want?" Sara nodded happily. "Then show me your schedule, so we can work out a practice time."

Cho tried to sound as businesslike and practical as she could, but she couldn't help but feel excited as she spoke. I'm telling her what Hooch told me, Cho marveled as she watched Sara dash up to her dormitory for a copy of her schedule. Is this what it feels like to be a teacher? Because I like the feeling. Funny that it never occurred to me as a career…

xxx

Things should have repeated themselves for Cho; after all, she had already been six years at Hogwarts. But, this year, it seemed, everything was different.

Classes weren't so very different from the previous year, except that the faculty constantly reminded her of the last thing she needed to be reminded of: her N.E.W.T.s. Some of the work was more advanced, and some of it was pretty much what she expected. Always, though, was the shadow over everything; the shadow of getting a job out in the wizarding world, of life after Hogwarts, of having to prove oneself to the Ministry before one could actually go out and prove oneself.

The teachers weren't so awful, except for the constantly awful Snape and his Potions replacement, Slughorn. Snape seemed indiscriminate in his abuse; even a few Slytherin came in for his withering glares and comments this year. But Cho dreaded Defense Against the Dark Arts for another reason. She seemed to stumble coming out of the box this year: try as she might, even understanding what she was expected to do, even after explaining it to other Ravenclaws and helping them along, she found it impossible to work wandless non-verbal spells. Try as hard as she might, she could make nothing happen. Other lessons went more easily, but she knew that, if she did not master this, her N.E.W.T. in DADA would be a disaster.

Slughorn wasn't mean to her in the abusive way that Snape was; Cho had gotten used to that after all these years. Slughorn was, in a way, worse: while he had his favourites, Cho was not among them. As he had on her first day with him, he regarded Cho as some small pile of rubbish that someone was supposed to have picked up. Whether she got the Potions assignments right or wrong seemed completely immaterial.

At the opposite end of the scale was Advanced Care of Magical Creatures, the class in which Cho was the only student. Once a week she went dutifully down to Rubeus Hagrid's hut, although half the time he was absent and the lessons were taught by Professor Grubbly-Plank, a hag who seemed old enough to have taught Rowena Ravenclaw. Still, they both knew what they were doing, even if Hagrid had a very clumsy way of expressing it. She came away each week with pages of notes about wyverns, basilisks, and one week even a shape-shifting tanuki from Japan.

Every evening, she took an hour to share her notes with the other Seventh Years of the Claw Club. It wasn't simply a matter of making copies for the others and letting them sort it out for themselves. Everyone had questions about the others' notes; details needed to be filled in, vague references needed to be clarified.

Cho was surprised to find that one set of her notes was already making the rounds: her explanation of the I Ching method of divination written out back in her Fourth Year, to try to help other Ravenclaws cope with Trelawny's teaching of the subject. More accurately, as Roger Davies had put it, "She's really made a hash of things, and none of us get this moving trigram business at all. Can you give us a hand?" Cho had done more than that, when she realized that her notes were still circulating among those Ravenclaws taking Divination, a subject she'd sworn off after Cedric was killed.

Cho also had what amounted to two Quidditch practices a week. Sunday mornings, the Ravenclaw team would be out practicing plays, testing strategies, getting ready for a season that the entire House seemed to think would bring them back the Cup. Then there were Tuesday afternoons, just before dinner, when Cho and Sara would have the pitch all to themselves for an hour. Cho didn't have a set of lessons here; it was simply speaking with Sara, watching her fly, assigning her a test of her skill on her broom (she was still using a school broom, an old Nimbus model made before Sara was born, and Cho coached her on how to get the maximum speed and control out of it). It made Cho feel good.

It made her feel almost a grown-up.

She juggled schoolwork, Quidditch, writing letters home, writing letters to Penelope Clearwater because now she felt that she could relate to Penelope as an equal, as if they were both grownup witches in the world, even though Cho hadn't quite stepped over that threshold. Not yet.

Saturday afternoons, and the occasional dinner, she'd chat with Michael Corner. She couldn't very well say no, as long as he behaved himself, and, so far, he was behaving himself. They spoke of schoolwork, of students and families of students who'd gone missing or worse; they even alluded once or twice to "the Army" even though Marietta would be sitting nearby—for she had no recollection of Dumbledore's Army or her role in betraying it.

And she juggled thoughts of Harry.

She couldn't help it. Half a hundred times in as many days she wanted to hunt him down, to talk to him about her friendship with Marietta, to say that she understood the wrong that Marietta had done but didn't understand why it had to come between the two of them. Things had gotten off to a rocky start, true, but she and Harry had found happiness with each other for a time; didn't that count for something with him? Because Cho knew that it still did with her.

But, no matter how much she wanted to talk to him, she couldn't find the courage in herself to seek him out. She felt she couldn't take another storm of his contempt. She'd think about it, not shedding a tear but blushing and sighing, usually in one of the lavatories, which amused Moaning Myrtle no end; she'd taken to calling Cho "the blushing bride." Which only made Cho blush all the more profoundly.

Like it or not, and she didn't always like it, she still loved Harry Potter.

xxx

Even though the weather was miserable the Saturday of the first Hogsmeade visit, almost every student who could go seemed anxious to make the trip. Cho was one of those students, in part because she now reserved the autumn Hogsmeade trip as the designated day to do her parents' Christmas shopping. For Cho, surprising her parents was always part of the holiday, and she couldn't hope to surprise them by shopping in Diagon Alley—not when her parents knew all the other Diagon Alley merchants on a first-name basis. And of course there was nothing for her in Knockturn Alley. So Hogsmeade, despite its relatively limited selection, was it. Also, the shops had their own particular charms, from Zonko's to Honeyduke's to the Three Broomsticks.

"Gon' ter take the plunge, Cho?" Jan Nugginbridge asked while they were dressing that morning. The weather was foul, cold and windy and spitting rain. It was nothing Cho couldn't deal with; after all, she'd flown in worse. But this was supposed to be a day for strolling.

"Probably not. I wouldn't try it until after I'd done my shopping, anyway." When Jan said "take the plunge," she meant that they were now of a legal age in the wizarding world, and could order firewhiskey in Hogsmeade.

"Need teh save yer money, then?"

"Need to hang onto my judgment. I've not had much practice at drinking; an occasional nip of wine with the family at home. I can only imagine what I'd think was an appropriate present for my mother after I'd had a firewhiskey."

"Maybe ye'd finally tell her off; give her what she needs teh hear."

"Oh, I, I have no trouble doing that," Cho said, her voice softer.

Jan nodded; she understood mothers and daughters.

By now, their Prefect, Marietta Edgecombe, had finished applying makeup to her face, covering up the horrid acne which spelled out SNEAK. Ironically, Cho noted, the only makeup which worked was developed by two other members of Dumbledore's Army, who despised Marietta for what she'd done: the Weasley twins.

Cho hated the word, but it seemed appropriate so many times, especially now: the ways of fate could be inscrutable.

Cho and Marietta walked side by side down to Hogsmeade, saying nothing, gritting their teeth against the suddenly cold and blustery weather—more like mid-winter than mid-October. Their first thought was to stop into the Three Broomsticks to warm up with a butterbeer, but most of the other students had the same idea; there wasn't a seat to be had. So they made a dash down the lane to Gladrags, where Cho planned to get a gift for her mother. On the way, they had to pass Zonko's novelty shop, which Cho noted was shuttered and apparently abandoned.

"Wonder if anything happened to him?" Marietta asked as they entered Gladrags.

Cho shrugged. "I've heard rumours that the Weasleys are trying to buy up his business, and make it part of their own."

"Whether they are or not, their makeup is the only thing that works on this." Cho understood what her friend meant, and once again cursed Hermione Granger for blighting Marietta's face, and almost cursed Harry for siding with Granger. Almost.

"So, what are we looking for this morning?" the Gladrags saleswitch said, a bit too loudly.

"A winter cloak for my mother," Cho said. "She's about my height, I suppose, or a bit taller."

"Does she need it for warmth or style?"

"A little of both, I think. She already has several cloaks to keep the cold off, but nothing that looks good for social occasions."

"And what about colour?"

"Well, red is always a good choice of colour, but I'm in Ravenclaw, and." Cho left the sentence hanging. The fact is, she was hoping against hope that her parents would actually come to one of her matches this year.

The saleswitch led Cho over to a rack of cloaks. "Let's see what we have here, then."

xxx

An hour later, the two young witches left Dervish and Banges. In addition to the cloak for her mother, Cho had gotten her father a self-calculating abacus, with a guaranteed memory capacity for over a million calculations. Since the weather had gotten no better, they made a dash back to the Three Broomsticks. This time, they found spaces at the bar.

"You really think he'll like that?" Marietta was asking about the abacus. "Seems to me he wouldn't trust a machine to do his calculating for him."

"Oh, but he's always been very keen on modern technology as well as tradition. He can use it as a ledger book; it can remember who bought what and when."

Marietta sighed. "I never know what to get my mother, except yet another book. She spends all her time at the Network these days."

"Can't they hire her an assistant?"

"You'd think they would, but no. Apparently Scrimgeour's hands are tied on this one: no new expenditures without permission from the Hexchecker or something." Marietta took a drink, staring straight ahead. "Not as if she likes being home, whether I'm there or not."

Cho took a sip of butterbeer, embarrassed. No matter how much she fought with her mother—and sometimes their screaming matches lasted for days—she never doubted her mother's concern and love. Things were very different between Marietta and Madam Edgecombe; Marietta's mother could be as cold as the awful weather howling through the streets of Hogsmeade.

Then Cho heard another sound from outside: the cracking sound of someone Disapparating. Shortly after that was a yell: "Come back you thieving—"

Harry.

"Let's go," Cho said, grabbing Marietta by the hand and nearly dragging her to the rear entrance of the pub, leaving two half-finished butterbeers on the bar.

Once they were outside, Marietta pulled her hand out of Cho's grasp. "You didn't have to do that," she said, loud enough to be heard over the wind but not much louder. "I recognized the voice, too."

The two of them started walking back to Hogwarts, Cho's cheeks blushing like a hearth, and not from the wind.

"Look, Cho, I'm hardly one to talk, but you really should say something to the boy. Maybe he's willing to give you another chance."

"If only that were true," Cho said. She would have sighed if they were indoors, but the wind and the cold didn't permit that. "I saw that look he gave us on the train."

"Well, that isn't always a permanent thing. Besides, I haven't seen him with any other girl this year." Marietta kept walking, and deliberately didn't look at Cho when she asked, "So how did you two get on last year?"

"I, well, didn't I tell you?"

"Not really, so tell me now. Did you two brew up any memories?"

"Well," Cho started, then gave a small smile. "Not as many as I'd have liked."

"There, you see?" Marietta seemed triumphant, as if she'd been the one dating Harry Potter. "You've got something to build on!"

Cho quickened her pace. "It's more, well, complicated than that."

Their conversation was interrupted by a terrible scream. They both turned to look behind them, then gave a gasp. They saw a witch screaming in terror, floating six feet off the ground. A couple of other students were grabbing at her ankles, trying to pull her down.

"Gods," Cho said barely above a whisper, "it's Katie!"

"You know her?"

"Katie Bell. She's a Chaser for Gryffindor." Cho looked around over the barren landscape, half-expecting to see Death Eaters keeping Katie afloat as she'd seen them at the World Quidditch Cup.

"That tears it," Marietta said. "Let's get back—right now!" The two witches rushed back to the gates, up the stone steps and into the castle.

They staggered, panting, into the Great Hall and sat at the end of the Ravenclaw table.

"Almost time for lunch, anyway," Marietta half-smiled. Cho glanced out at the entryway, where Professor McGonagall and Filch were rushing to the entrance.

"What was all that?" Cho asked.

"I'm sure we'll find out by sunset. You know how rumours are in this place."

"Let me take these up, then," Cho said, taking her parcels. "Back in a few."

By the time she went through the tapestry (using the password "intracostal"), touched her copy of Confucius, dashed up to the dorm, dropped her bundles on the bed, and returned to the Great Hall, the tables were half-full and Marietta had already started eating. Either the other students didn't know what had happened yet or they were trying to act as if things were normal. And, for Cho, they were at least a bit normal, because she couldn't suppress the thought: will Katie Bell be able to play the first match?

xxx

To be continued in part 11, wherein Hogwarts' first Quidditch match, and Cho's last season, gets underway.


	11. Chapter 11

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

11. "Take nothing for granted"

Whatever had happened to Katie Bell, it was serious enough to send her to St. Mungo's the day after the Hogsmeade visit. Days, then weeks, went by without her return, until she was off the Gryffindor team for a month. Cho made it a point to wander past the stadium whenever Gryffindor was practicing, and they were making do with their two new Chasers plus one Reserve after another. It wasn't working out; each Reserve seemed worse than the next. Gryffindor was going up against Slytherin in the first match of the year, and the Chasers simply weren't ready.

And neither was the Keeper. Cho had kept a close eye on Ronald Weasley last year, when he tried and (mostly) failed to protect the Gryffindor goals. Whether it was inexperience or nerves or whatever, he had failed utterly to stop even the simplest shots.

Until the final game. In that last match, when Cho could only half pay attention to Weasley, he'd played like a wizard reborn, blocking one shot after another. He'd finally found himself, it seemed, although Cho soon found out that this didn't last, either. Weasley had fallen back into being a horrid Keeper.

xxx

The day after the Hogsmeade trip and the attack (or whatever it was) on Katie Bell, Cho and the team had their usual Sunday morning practice. As they returned to Ravenclaw (the password was "arthroscopic"), they saw a dozen or so students in the common room, focused on Padma Patil.

"We both got owls this morning," she was saying, "and every other sentence was, 'You will leave that awful place and come back home at once!' The business with Katie was the straw that broke the camelopard's back, I guess. This time it was someone we'd had over to the house, after all, and someone in our year."

"So will you be leaving?" Michael Corner asked.

"Probably not. Parvati's working on mother even as we speak. I think she can talk our parents out of withdrawing us. She knows all of mum's nerves and just how to tweak them."

"That sounds handy to know," Diana Fairweather added. "Seems like the sort of thing a Ravenclaw would want in their bag of tricks."

Parvati shook her head. "That sort of thing really is Parvati's line. I'm too logical. I could talk to my dad about anything, but not my mum. It's just different, somehow."

Hoping that the Patils would survive this crisis by staying in Hogwarts, Cho went upstairs to change.

xxx

There was one surprise for Cho the Monday after the Hogsmeade trip. That afternoon, Cho was just leaving Hagrid's hut after a lesson about nogtails, accursed piglet-looking creatures with legs so long that Cho was still wondering how they avoided detection, when Sara came dashing up to her from the castle.

"Cho! Cho! Madam Hooch sent me for you."

"Is something wrong, then?" So soon after the cursing of Katie Bell, Cho feared the worst, despite the fact that Sara was grinning, and her eyes were blazing.

"Don't think so. We're supposed to go to her office in the stadium, right now!"

With that, Sara turned on her heel and dashed toward the stadium, leaving Cho rushing to keep up. Sara wouldn't say anything else until they were in the stadium. "What's this about, then?" Cho asked.

Sara didn't answer directly; she simply said, "Better get your breath," and opened the door to Hooch's office without knocking.

Cho saw Madam Hooch laughing, saying "I don't know how you can still drink that," as her guest took a long drink from a bottle of butterbeer. But that guest was the last person Cho expected to see in Hogwarts. As she stood and stared, manners forgotten, the guest lowered the bottle and gave Cho a gaze that was part appraisal, part amusement.

"Well, here she is," Madam Hooch was saying, "the student I was telling you about."

Her guest was a witch about thirty years old, with dark brown skin and hair the same shade as her skin swept back on her head almost resembling a lion's mane. Her gray eyes looked surprisingly like Cedric's.

Cho finally remembered herself and bowed. "It, it's an honour to meet you, Miss Jones."

"Miss Jones?" the woman chuckled.

"Well, you two only just met," Madam Hooch smiled; "you can hardly expect her to call you Gwen."

Gwenog Jones, Beater and Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, stood up, easily twelve inches taller than Cho. "Madam Hooch has told me quite a bit about you. All of it good; don't worry."

"I, erm, thank you." Cho bowed again hastily. The older women seemed amused by her nervousness. "Is that why you're here?"

"Not really. Slughorn is having one of his little soirees tonight, and for once I had the time. Would you like to come along tonight?"

Jones could see two emotions struggling on Cho's face: on the one hand, the chance to speak at length with a Quidditch professional. But on the other hand…

"I'm sorry," Cho bowed again. "It's my N.E.W.T. year, and I have a meeting with the rest of my year, and…"

"Say no more," Jones chuckled. "You really are a Ravenclaw." She Summoned the bottle of butterbeer and drained it. "Some other time, then. Meanwhile, we'll see if you get a chance to use the talent Madam Hooch thinks you have."

"Get a chance?" Cho repeated.

"I can think of several teams in need of a good Seeker. But there's a war on, and the Ministry's been making noises about messing with Quidditch for the duration. Seems that Scrimgeour thinks it's a tempting target: all those witches and wizards in one place at one time."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Hooch nodded. "Something similar happened when Grindelwald was out and about."

"Still, Quidditch will still be around, one way or another. That's all that matters, eh?" She turned to Madam Hooch. "We'd better get to the castle; Horace must be throwing seven kinds of fits that I haven't put in an appearance yet." She then turned back to Cho, holding out a large, muscular hand. "Good luck to you, then, Miss Chang. I'm sure we'll meet again."

Cho shook Gwenog Jones' hand, which felt hard as wood and rougher than her father's hands. "I hope so. And thank you."

"Better get to the castle, then," Hooch told the students; they were clearly being dismissed. They nodded and left the office, then started running for the front steps of the castle, breaking into a kind of exhilarating laughter as they ran.

xxx

That night, the Claw Club spent more time talking about Quidditch than about N.E.W.T.s. They asked about Katie, about Gwenog Jones, and about Ravenclaw's chances this year.

"Won't be easy this time," Eddie Carmichael said. "Last year Umbitch had Potter suspended. So he's back now, right?"

"That may be, but Merlin only knows how long Bell will be out, and she was their most experienced Chaser. Plus they've lost their Beaters and their Keeper is looking as shaky as he did last year."

"Still, Cho, this is Gryffindor," Marietta said. "I think their motto is, 'If you can't play smart, charge in and play anyway.' It's worked for them in the past."

"That's the past, though, and my Divination isn't good enough to let me see the future," added Diana Fairweather.

"Speaking of Divination," interrupted Marcus Belby, "I know I keep repeating myself about this, Cho, but this I Ching business…"

xxx

By the end of October, with the first match just around the corner, Katie Bell still hadn't returned. Cho brought some exciting news to the Claw Club on Wednesday night.

"Gryffindor's only just set the line-up for Saturday, and they've brought in an entirely new Chaser!"

"Lettin' it go till the las' minute? Wot's the sense o' that?" Jan asked.

"Maybe they were still hoping for Katie to come back. Anyway, the new Chaser is someone from Potter's year, a Muggle-born named Dean Thomas."

"Oh, him," Diana Fairweather nodded. "Tall thin black boy, right? Don't know how he is on a broom, but he's supposed to be a dab hand with a paintbrush."

"He should stick to paints. I watched a bit of their practice yesterday."

"And?" Eddie asked.

Cho shook her head, but she was smiling. "Pathetic. The Keeper actually punched a Chaser in the mouth."

"Could be nerves, you know," Marietta said. "They're up against Slytherin; that would rattle an experienced team."

"No, it wouldn't. In my second year, we just anticipated the kinds of tricks they'd pull, stopped them doing it, and won the match."

"Listen to you," Grimaldi chuckled; "Cho Chang, the old war veteran. Why don't you strip your sleeves and show your scars? And anything else, of course."

Even Cho, who was used to Giulio Grimaldi's off-colour jokes, chuckled at that one.

xxx

Saturday morning dawned cool, clear and pleasant. It would be good weather, no matter who won. Neither side had an advantage there, then.

Cho had wanted to be up early, but stayed up until after midnight writing to her parents. Consequently, she overslept, dressed hurriedly, and dashed down to breakfast. As soon as she walked into the Great Hall, the Slytherins started booing and cat-calling, and she had to wonder, What did I do? Then she realized; one of the new Gryffindor Beaters, already in full regalia, had walked in just behind her.

She took a place near the end of the table, and had just spooned some soft-boiled egg into her mouth when Michael Corner sat across from her.

"So, Captain, who have you picked to win?"

Cho hurriedly swallowed the mouthful of egg, but, before she could say anything, a roar came from the doorway. It was Luna, wearing her lion's head hat, proclaiming her choice in today's match to the whole school.

She walked over and sat next to Cho. "The first match of the season's always so much fun, isn't it?" she asked. Cho wasn't sure if Luna was speaking to her or to Michael, or, for that matter, to anyone in particular.

Cho nodded as she dished herself some strawberries and cream. "I think Gryffindor might have a hard time of it today, though, after losing Katie and all."

"Take nothing for granted; that's what I say. That way, everything will be a pleasant surprise."

"I don't know if that attitude will help you through your O.W.L.s," Michael added.

"Ah, well, the O.W.L.s are completely different. You can find out the questions they'll ask months before."

"How, exactly?" Cho asked, half afraid of what Luna would answer.

Luna brought her head closer to the table and whispered. "They have a scheme; the Ministry does. All you have to do is read the Daily Prophet and look for any article that has the word 'Ministry" in the headline. Then you read every fourth word to get a test question. Or maybe it's every fifth or sixth word; they change it around, you see, to keep from being found out. But father's this close to finding out their system," she added, holding up a thumb and forefinger almost touching.

Cho had been right to worry; where does her father come up with this utter nonsense, she wondered, and why does Luna believe it all? Just then, Michael tapped on the table to get Cho's attention.

"Look at the Gryffs," he whispered.

Cho and Luna both turned to look at Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, both in Quidditch gear, having some sort of argument with Hermione Granger. Shortly after that, the team rose and left for the stadium.

"We'd better get going, too, or all the best seats'll be gone. Shall we?" Michael held out his hand as if asking Cho to dance.

"Oh. Erm, can't we wait another minute? I promised Marietta we'd sit together."

"That's nice," Luna smiled. Just then, Marietta appeared at the door, waving Cho over.

Michael shrugged. "Another match, then?"

"The next match is us against Hufflepuff," Cho said, standing up. "Let's just see what happens." She walked as deliberately as she could to the doors, despite wanting to run.

"Breakfast with the lout and the loon, I see," Marietta smirked.

"Michael's been behaving himself."

"Keep meeting him in public places, he'll have no choice."

"But Luna seems worse than ever. Have you heard her latest bit about the Prophet?" By this time they were headed down the stone steps and toward the stadium.

xxx

As soon as the match was over, Cho dashed up to the dormitory. She'd jotted down words and phrases about the match in a notebook, and now wanted to organize them; Ravenclaw would have to play both Slytherin and Gryffindor, and it never hurt to evaluate the competition.

The first thing she wrote, though, was something Luna Lovegood had said over breakfast: "Take nothing for granted." She reflected a minute, then wrote: "Both teams had lost key players, yet overall their play was quite strong. GKW especially good today for the first half." GKW stood for Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, who was brilliant during the first half of the match, blocking everything that came his way. The Slytherin Keeper was also strong, although not as effective. By the end, Gryffindor was in front by only one hundred points; Slytherin could still have won the match by taking the Snitch.

"U Capt." This referred to Slytherin's new Captain, Urquhart. Montagu had graduated, but Urquhart had been a part of the team. He could be counted on to know all of the Slytherin bag of tricks, and, as the game showed, he didn't hesitate to use them. They'd also lost Vaisey, one of their best Chasers, to a practice injury; Cho had been there before, and sympathized, as much as she could for a Slytherin. Most important, Malfoy was replaced by Harper, who had some talent as a Seeker but not a lot. Still, he almost got the Snitch away from Harry in the final minute.

Cho jotted down: "Be prepared to replace anyone!" Even myself, she thought.

"ZS no." That was a reference to the announcer, Hufflepuff Chaser Zacharias Smith. Lee Jordan had also left Hogwarts, but Smith was horribly biased against Gryffindor. Although, Cho had to admit, Jordan had been biased in favour of Gryffindor. There was just something about the way Smith did it: snide, condescending, acting like a veteran player. With luck, he'd be replaced later in the season.

"Harry." That didn't need much explanation; his abilities as a Seeker didn't suffer the year that Umbridge made him give up Quidditch. For many other Seekers, spotting the Snitch later than the opposition, and rushing to get there first, would have been a dream. But Harry did it, commanding the Firebolt as if it was a part of him since birth. He took advantage of Harper fumbling the Snitch and grabbed it to end the game, 290 to 40.

No; she didn't need to speak to the rest of the team about Harry. She did allow herself a minute to daydream, going ahead to spring and the final match of the year—her final match at Hogwarts. The moment at the beginning of the match, when the Captains would shake hands; her hand would be in Harry's for the first time in a year. Perhaps, she thought, she could confuse him a bit by kissing him on the cheek, as she did when the Quibbler ran that interview with him. She smiled.

"Ginny???" She had played against Ginny Weasley last spring, when she was a substitute Seeker for Harry; she'd stolen the Snitch from in front of Cho—for which Cho blamed herself; she hadn't kept her mind on the game nor her eye on the Snitch. This match saw her back at being a Chaser, but, when the match was over, and all the other Gryffindors were congratulating Harry, Ginny pointed her broom toward the commentator's box and rammed into it at top speed. It flew apart at once; Smith fell to the pitch, followed by most of the debris of the stand. McGonagall was sitting next to the box and only just escaped the same fate; she looked furious, but said nothing after Ginny yelled something to her. Perhaps McGonagall, who was Head of House for Gryffindor, couldn't punish a winning player, no matter the fault. Of course, Cho thought, I might have done the same thing to Smith, with some of the awful things he said about Harry—

No! I won't lower myself to her level, no matter what Smith may have said. I'm a Chang and a Ravenclaw! Besides, a simple hex would have been more practical.

xxx

To be continued in part 12, wherein Cho reaches out to an enemy.


	12. Chapter 12

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

12. Two Victories

Cho woke up early the next morning. She'd spent much of the night reading and rereading her notes, pondering what to do with this, her only chance to lead the Ravenclaw Quidditch team to the House Cup. It wasn't about being a Seeker anymore; it was about leadership. She was among the oldest on the team now, and no longer the youngest. She had to do what was needed.

She sat at her writing desk for hours, staring at the words, as if they would reassemble themselves into the advice she needed. She finally gave it up, turned to her class assignments (and there were many, since this was her Seventh Year), then went to bed.

She woke up at two in the morning. She hardly dared think she'd dreamed of the answer, but that's how it seemed to come to her. Cho had dreamed of the scoreboard in the stadium at Hogwarts. There was no game, but the numbers on the scoreboard just kept changing, spinning faster and faster…

until she woke up. She lit her wand, went to the writing-desk, and started looking through old copies of the Prophet. She didn't have many, and most of them didn't tell her what she needed to know.

The bed-curtains slid open on Marietta Edgecombe's bed. "Is everything all right, Cho?"

"Just fine," Cho smiled. "Got a flash of inspiration, is all; sorry to bother you."

Marietta shrugged and closed her curtains. Cho jotted down a few more notes, then went back to bed. It was some time, though, before she was asleep; she was too excited by her realization.

xxx

She was up early, dressed quickly, and polished off a light breakfast before the rest of her dorm was even awake. Since it was a Sunday morning, it didn't much matter, but anyone who knew Cho could tell she was so excited she couldn't keep still. She could barely wait for practice to begin later that morning.

She was first in the stadium, although she only had to wait a few minutes before Sara Anand showed up. They had been working on dodging Bludgers, but of course they had been joined by either Bufidius or Cargon, since Cho couldn't equal their abilities as Beaters. Now it was just the two of them, so they spent an hour chasing the Snitch. Cho deliberately held back, to give Sara a chance at getting the Snitch, or at least a chance of fighting for it.

Finally, the rest of the team started to show up. The Seekers landed, and, at the appointed hour, Cho stood up in front of the others.

"I reckon most of you saw yesterday's game," Cho started. "We don't need to worry just yet about either Slytherin or Gryffindor. We'll see them in the spring. For now, we have until December 14 to get ready, and not just for Hufflepuff."

"Won't take that long," Pablo Molina muttered.

"I'm glad you think so, Pablo, but bear with me a minute, please. I want to talk about our strategy for the entire year.

"We're in the position of playing from the weakest to the strongest House as the year goes on. Our last game will be against Gryffindor, and we have to be in a position going into that game where they start at a disadvantage."

"Gonna put out a contract on Potter, then?" asked Keeper Entwhistle.

"Let's just say we'll let him dig himself into a hole. What was the score yesterday?"

"Two-ninety to forty."

"Right; take away for the Snitch, and what was the score?"

"Erm, one forty to forty." The question had caught Entwhistle off guard.

"From what I've seen of Gryffindor over the years, Harry, erm, Potter doesn't run up the score like Slytherin does. He goes for the Snitch as quickly as he can. One time he caught it within two minutes of the opening whistle."

"Look, we all know he's good enough…"

"He's good enough to play Seeker, Pablo, but I don't know if he's a good enough Captain. They have a good side this year; we all saw that yesterday. But they aren't thinking past the next match. We have to, in order to beat them at the end of the year.

"What I propose is this: we take a page from the Slytherin playbook. Don't look at me like that! What I mean is, we run up a very high score in our first two matches, so that, for the final match when we play Gryffindor, they'll have a huge deficit to overcome. Potter will have to hold back; chasing the Snitch too soon would risk their pulling a Krum."

The others nodded, understanding what Cho referred to. Viktor Krum, the Seeker for Bulgaria in the World Quidditch Cup three years earlier, had caught the Snitch too soon, and actually handed the win to Ireland.

"I think we can do it," Martin Elna, a Reserve Beater, said. "I don't know what was wrong with Slytherin yesterday, but they were definitely off their game. Maybe they'll be off in March as well. And Hufflepuff is, well, Hufflepuff. We should be able to run up the score, right?" He looked at Molina, who exchanged glances with Bradley and Chambers.

"You have to do your part, Captain," Molina said. "Keep Summerby and Malfoy off the Snitch without catching it yourself, for long enough to let us run up the score."

"Well, then" Cho smiled, "since we all have work to do, we'd better get at it."

xxx

That was the strategy Ravenclaw pursued for the next five weeks. The Chasers worked out combination plays in which two or three of them charged the rings, moving fast enough to trick the Keeper into losing sight of the Quaffle. Cho, meanwhile, was playing against Sara, who she told to try as hard as she could to get the Snitch away from her. Cho really had to work at keeping Sara away from the Snitch while waiting for the Chasers to run up the score as high and as fast as they could.

On those Sundays, Cho didn't eat lunch. Instead, after practice she enjoyed one of the prerogatives of being Captain and used the Prefects' bath. At first she needed the water very warm, with salts and mint for her sore arm muscles. By the third week, though, her muscles were accustomed to the drills, and the baths were to wash off the sweat as well as feel luxurious. It was almost perfect.

"Almost" was because it crossed her mind more than once as she paddled from one side of the tub to the other that she wouldn't mind at all if Harry walked through the door. He was a Captain, too, after all. He could blunder in, but she wouldn't scream and tell him to get out. No; she wanted to be alone with him, face to face, even naked as she was.

But it never happened.

xxx

Saturday, December 14 dawned cloudy, and snow started falling while Cho was eating breakfast. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams, both already in full regalia, ate quietly, glancing at the ceiling every few minutes. Quidditch days were usually noisy, but this day the great hall was filled only with the clinking of silver on dishes, murmured conversations, and the occasional screech from Luna Lovegood's eagle-hat proclaiming her support for Ravenclaw House. Even the ghosts hadn't begun their usual caroling yet; there seemed to be an agreement that nothing festive would happen until after the match.

"D'you think somebody knows something?" Pablo asked the rest of the team. "I mean, all the talk of Death Eaters about, and Katie Bell still isn't back."

"Don't worry." Cho wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Hogwarts is as safe as can be. What happened to Katie happened in Hogsmeade, after all. I trust Dumbledore to keep us all protected."

"Is that why you're staying here over the holidays, then?" Sara had heard from Cho two days earlier, as they worked on speed sprints, that she wasn't going home for Christmas.

"It's my parents' idea. They want me to be as safe as possible, and they're convinced that nothing will happen in Hogwarts."

"Well," "Torture" Chambers said as he stood up, "something's about to happen to Hufflepuff, right?"

Cho nodded. "And we're the ones to make it happen. I guess it's time, then."

A harsh wind hit them all in the face as soon as the left the castle, and blew right into their faces all the way to the stadium. Once inside, Cho asked the players, including the reserves, to fly a few laps, high enough to feel the wind and see what direction it favoured. When they landed, Cho was beaming.

"Looks like a strong cross-breeze by our rings; that'll throw off their Chasers. And it's a tail-wind for you three headed for their rings. It won't throw you off, will it?"

"No fear, Captain," Pablo said.

They went to their changing room and waited for the announcement.

Cho had gotten so used to Lee Jordan's commentary that Zacharias Smith's remarks at the previous game caught her off-guard at first. The same thing happened now as a very different, much younger magically amplified voice piped up:

"Oh. Erm, okay. This is the second Quidditch match of the year, between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Not that it's their second match this year, it's the second for anybody, well, you know what I mean."

Cho went to the doorway leading onto the field and looked up at the stand. There was Dennis Creevey, a Third Year in Gryffindor and a former member of Dumbledore's Army, who was small of stature but seemed totally overshadowed next to Professor McGonagall. She already looked as if she was regretting giving Dennis the megaphone.

"This should be interesting," Pablo chuckled.

"Just ignore him," Cho said. "I don't think he's ever done this before. Be sure to keep an eye on the scoreboard."

"So they should be coming out soon," the childish treble continued.

"They won't until you announce them." The megaphone picked up McGonagall's harsh whisper, and everyone laughed.

"Oh, right. Well, first is, which one, Professor?"

"It's your choice."

"Right. So I guess, erm, Hufflepuff."

There was a long pause.

"Name the players, Creevey!"

Again the spectators laughed as Dennis tried to name all of the players, stumbling over a couple of the names. After a pause that seemed to take forever, the stadium heard him ask, "Is it time for Ravenclaw, then?"

"Past time, Mister Creevey." McGonagall seemed ready to bite the head off a troll.

The Ravenclaw team, waiting in line, just started marching out onto the pitch. And so it starts, Cho thought. They lined up opposite the Hufflepuff team, which included Zacharias Smith, with a very sour look on his face. He clearly wanted to be both on the pitch and in the commentator's seat at the same time.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch instructed; Cho and the Hufflepuff Captain, a large Chaser named Binny Cadwallader, shook; the teams mounted their brooms. And waited, watching Hooch while Hooch looked up at the booth.

"Announce the start of the match," a frustrated McGonagall whispered.

"But it hasn't started yet," Creevey whispered back.

"And it won't until you tell them to start!" McGonagall was on the edge of losing her usual reserve, and the match hadn't even started yet.

When it did start, the Ravenclaw team took first possession of the Quaffle away from Cadwallader, who had trouble hanging onto the ball in the wind. Once they started running up the score, there was no stopping them. Creevey got caught up in the action, completely forgetting the score, the players' names, and his duties as commentator. He repeatedly turned to McGonagall and asked, "Wasn't that cool?!" McGonagall held her tongue. By this time, the students in the stands stopped thinking Creevey was amusing, and, apart from the cheers from Hufflepuff when they managed to score, the only commentary was the screeching of Luna Lovegood's hat.

By the time Cho spotted the Snitch, raced through the patches of fog ahead of Summerby and grabbed it, the score was 300 to 60. With the Snitch, it was Ravenclaw's win, 450 to 60.

The Ravenclaw team was jubilant. "Better than you planned it, Captain," Pablo smiled, clapping Cho on the shoulder.

"It's a good start. Two more matches to go, though."

"For us, maybe. But I predict McGonagall isn't letting Creevey in that box again."

That was a prediction the entire team believed.

xxx

With the last match of the year over, it was as if the Christmas decorations, in hiding, suddenly burst out. The giant trees, the holly, the ribbons, and the mistletoe all seemed to have been put up during the match. The mistletoe was especially evident, as girls seemed to loiter near every sprig in hopes of catching some boy or other. From the talk she overheard, Cho realized that some of the girls were lurking in pursuit of Harry.

It won't happen, Cho told herself, even as she remembered her own encounter with Harry under the mistletoe in the Room of Requirement…

"Nicely played, Captain." It was Michael Corner. She completely forgot to look out for anyone or anything, lost as she was in memory.

Cho blushed, stammered a quick reply, then dashed back to Ravenclaw. As she left, she heard Chambers tell Michael something about "nerves after a match."

That would do as an excuse, for an hour or two at least.

xxx

The last week before the holidays went by in its usual blur of activities; even though classes were in session, most of the students (and some of the faculty) didn't take them too seriously, and let the festivities start early.

One event was far from festive. Professor Slughorn had sent out invitations for a soiree to be held the night before the Hogwarts Express took students back to London. Marcus Belby had not been asked, and actually had seemed relieved.

"The note made it quite plain," Belby told the other members of the Claw Club two nights before the event. "If only I were to bring along Uncle Damocles, there'd be a place at table for both of us."

"Then why not ask him?" Diana Fairweather asked.

"Because things are still sketchy between him and my dad. If I went to my uncle behind his back, just to get into Slug's party, my dad would never let me hear the end of it. Why go looking for more pressure than we've already got this year, eh?"

None of this mattered to Cho, who knew she'd never be a Slughorn favourite after that frosty reception he'd given her on the first day of class. Her only thought about the party was the knowledge that Harry would be there; she wondered if he'd invite Hermione Granger, with whom he seemed at times to be romantically linked.

On the night of Slughorn's Christmas party, Cho was in the library with most of the rest of the Claw Club. She needed to solve some particularly tough Rune translations, but also realized that, while the others in her year could help with the translation, they wouldn't be available to her during her N.E.W.T.s. She'd simply have to master the damned things. She spent an hour doing so, breaking off once in a while to look up old Prophet issues to refresh her memory of Slytherin matches. Playing them was never like playing Hufflepuff, despite the rumours that Malfoy seemed oddly detached this year from his duties as Slytherin Seeker. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had already made it quite clear: this year would be rather different.

A little before closing time, Cho excused herself to go to the toilet. Her head was swimming at this point from the Runes; she was ready to head back to Ravenclaw. After all, she had all of the holidays to sharpen her Rune skills.

No sooner was she in one of the stalls when she heard a door slam, then the sound of someone running into the neighbouring stall, slamming that door, then: "DAMN YOU, RONALD WEASLEY!" and the sound of crying.

Hermione Granger. Cho had gotten to know the voice quite well last year in Dumbledore's Army. She was the one who hexed Marietta's face.

Cho simply sat there, waiting until the crying subsided. Then, when the sobbing was replaced by sniffles and throat-clearing, Cho realized that this could be her only chance.

"Granger?"

The sniffling suddenly silenced. "Who's that?"

"Cho Chang. I, I have a favour to ask."

"This is really a bad time."

"There hasn't been a time before now. I … I'd like you to lift the hex from Marietta, please. Nine months is far too long."

There was dead silence from the other stall. After a minute, Cho heard Hermione's voice, low, surly, almost a growl: "I can't believe she's learned her lesson…"

"There's no way that she can learn anything! Someone gave her a Memory Mod! Or didn't you know that she doesn't remember a thing about the D.A.?"

Again a silence, then: "And you've done your best to educate her, I'm sure."

"You're wrong. The D.A. meant everything to me last year; surely you know that. I didn't want to give her a chance to go to Umbridge again, but she didn't deserve that face either."

"It protected the D.A., didn't it?"

"And turned a Prefect into a laughing-stock. I'm the last friend she has left. And last year was one thing, but it's been nine months! She doesn't deserve that."

"And I'm supposed to feel sorry for her, after we almost all got caught? Give me one reason to lift it, Cho—just one good reason."

Cho thought that, when asked, she could come up with a dozen reasons for Hermione to lift the hex. But now, in this moment, her answer wasn't even on the list, and it came in a voice that was soft and a bit halting: "Because it's Christmas, Hermione. It's Christmas. Does that mean anything to you?"

Silence filled the loo for a full minute. Then Cho heard the rustle of robes and the opening of a stall door. Hermione stopped in front of the door to Cho's stall.

Cho barely heard Hermione say, "This conversation never took place." With that, Hermione hurried out of the toilet.

xxx

The next morning Cho walked to the station to see off the girls from her year; those who were going, anyway. Like Cho, Jan was staying. Diana was going home, and Marietta was going back to St. Mungo's.

"Do me a favour, Cho," Marietta said as the walked toward Hogsmeade. "Let's don't talk about this," she gestured toward her face. "Bad enough I'll be thinking about it for eight hours on the bleeding train, then back into hospital where they'll do nothing about it."

"You mustn't lose all hope," Cho said. "I still believe you'll wake up one morning and everything will be back to normal."

"A Christmas miracle, eh?" Marieta snorted. "That sort of thing belongs in novels."

Still,as Maretta had asked, they spoke of other things until the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station. She walked back alone through a day that seemed impossibly silent. The air was cold and damp, with no wind blowing.

No sooner did she enter Hogwarts than Cho saw Michael Corner. "I guess you saw the train off," he smiled, in that warm, welcoming way he smiled at her months ago.

"I guess you didn't," Cho found herself smiling back, even while she wanted to keep up her guard. "Didn't want to see anyone off?"

Michael shook his head. "Stopped in the corridor to listen to a couple of the paintings, and lost track of the time. Gryffindor's Fat Lady was going at it with some dancing nymphs or something; whatever's guarding Hufflepuff. Seems they wanted to change passwords for the hols, but both Houses wanted to use 'frankincense.' Hope I never get that dotty."

"I don't know," Cho said. "Sometimes I think it might be interesting to be around for so long; just watch everything change, see all the new people. Of course, I'd hate to be stuck on the one wall forever, but I guess that's the exchange."

"Something to think about, anyway." Michael still smiled at Cho, but in a way that made her feel that she was being sized up, judged for some purpose. "Well, I don't think there are many of us left here this holiday, so I'm sure to see you around." Without a further word, Michael turned and went into the Great Hall.

Cho went back up to Ravenclaw. She knew she was getting attracted to him again—and why not? He was a very confident, friendly, good-looking young wizard—although Cho knew that what he'd done to her at the lake last summer would stay with her. She wasn't sure if he really repented what he'd done, and wasn't yet ready to put it to the test.

xxx

Jan awoke early on Christmas day. When she parted her bed curtains, though, she could see that Cho was already awake. She was seated at the window, looking out on the falling snow.

"Happy Christmas, Jan."

"Happy Christmas ter yeh." Jan put on her slippers and walked over to Cho. "Yeh feelin' all right?"

"Just look at that," Cho smiled. She looked out the window, smiling. After a minute, she turned to Jan. "I know I'm a Ravenclaw, and I'm supposed to be sensible. I know there are sixty seconds in a minute and twenty-four hours in a day. But when I think about all the things that have happened in my life, I honestly can't believe it. How did they all fit in an hour, or a day? Time just doesn't seem big enough to hold them."

"Thinkin' about Cedric, then?"

"I'm thinking about him, and everyone and everything. Yes, we went to a dance together two years ago tonight. And for a few months after that, we were so close that, well, it was like we were taking the same breath. Does that make sense?"

"Yeh miss 'im, then?"

"Not any more. Somewhere along the way I learned that, yes he's gone, but everything we did and said and dreamed was so real, and such a large part of me, that I'll never miss him; not really." Cho looked back through the window. "I want to feel again everything I felt with him; I want to be held, feel safe and loved in someone's arms. I miss that. But sometimes, memory's enough."

Jan paused for a minute, then went back to her desk, took a small package from a drawer, and brought it to Cho. "I spent loads o' time tryin' ter figger what yeh'd like."

Cho tore off the paper; the book inside was blank.

"It's a journal, then?"

"If tha's wha' yeh want. Write abou' Quidditch, er Cedric er wha'ever yeh want. Jes' lemme see it when ye're done. I don' know wha'll happen to yeh after we leave, but I think it'll be somethin' grand."

Cho took Jan's hand in her own. "I hope so," Cho smiled, while she thought, You really are Head Girl, Jan Nugginbridge.

xxx

No sooner had the few students who stayed (more than usual, but still few) and the faculty sat down to Christmas dinner that afternoon when something unprecedented happened: an owl arrived for one of the students. A rather large own bearing a large scroll landed on the table directly in front of Cho, apparently taking no notice of the roast goose not ten inches away.

Cho recognized a badge around the owl's neck as the crest of St. Mungo's. She unwrapped the scroll and began reading:

"Talk of a Christmas miracle! Cho, you'll never guess what happened this morning."

Oh, I think I can, Cho smiled.

"I hope it isn't bad news, Miss Chang," Professor Flitwick said.

"On the contrary, Professor, it's the best possible news."

xxx

To be continued in part 13, wherein we hear from Penelope Clearwater and a meeting with Michael proves pivotal for Cho.


	13. Chapter 13

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: R for sexual content

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

13. Christmas Gifts

On Boxing Day Cho stayed in bed as long as possible. Not that the dorm room was cold or drafty; she simply realized that, for one of very few times this year, she had no reason to be up early. Studies for the N.E.W.T.s could wait, as could the planning of Quidditch strategy.

She drifted in and out of sleep, debating whether to even bother with breakfast, until one soft sound forced its way on her. It was the rustling of an owl's feathers. She looked up and saw a small tawny owl sitting at the foot of her bed. It wasn't Kwan Yin or any owl she knew. Might it be from her parents?

The owl was definitely for her though; it stood at the foot of the bed, holding out one leg, which had a small piece of paper tied to it. The short message woke her up at once:

"Floo me. We have to talk. Penelope"

Cho threw her robes on over her bed clothes and practically leapt down the stairs to the Common Room. She took a pinch of powder from a bowl on the mantle; in a year of bad news and worse surprises, Ravenclaw made sure that there was a supply of Floo powder available at all times. Cho tossed the powder into the grate; it immediately flared up.

"Penelope Clearwater, please."

The flames briefly rose higher, then settled into a picture of the Clearwater house in Little Wilbraham, near Cambridge, where both of Penelope's Muggle parents were on the faculty. Penelope herself quickly appeared, looking both happy and (Cho thought) a bit embarrassed.

"Happy Christmas, Penelope! I just got your owl."

"Happy Christmas, Cho! You didn't have to answer so quickly, although I'm glad you did. Excuse my language, but it truly sucks being home alone on the holidays."

"Where are your parents, then?"

"The States. Attending a conference in Florida, I think; one of the warm places, anyway."

"I take it they're all right." Penelope nodded. "So what do we need to talk about, then?"

Penelope took a deep breath. "Percy."

Cho felt the colour leave her face. "Has something happened to him?"

"Nothing important, unless you count him getting into a food-fight with the twins."

"But, wait a minute, you're saying he at least came home for the hols?"

"Christmas Day, anyway," Penelope nodded, "and with Scrimgeour in tow, no less." Penelope seemed to want to tell all this to Cho, but at the same time seemed embarrassed by the news.

"Sounds like good news so far. Were you at the Burrow?"

"No; I just got an earful of it last night from Molly Weasley."

"Well? Tell me what happened!"

Penelope wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. It was as if she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and spent part of the night crying. "Well, things have been a bit tense at the Weasleys' since Bill and Fleur got engaged. The twins just take the Mickey out of Bill over being married to a veela. Molly and Ginny, apparently, have been the worst. They seem to loathe everything about Fleur; I've never heard Molly say a single kind word about her. And apparently it's mutual; Fleur is forever complaining about the Weasleys, and Britain in general.

"Christmas Eve, Molly said, was as bad as it could go. Hardly anyone was speaking to each other, and when they did it was only about the state of things. Oh, by the way, she said Lupin was there."

This interested Cho. After a career at Hogwarts where her Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers were (accidentally or not) more likely to help Voldemort than hinder him, Lupin was the only one who truly understood Defense and how to teach it. And yet he had turned out to be a werewolf; although, the last time Cho had seen him, it was on the platform at King's Cross this past summer. Lupin was chatting with Harry, whose judgment of course she thoroughly trusted…

"Cho? Still there?"

"Sorry," Cho gave an embarrassed smile. "Off on a tangent. Did something happen?"

"Not on Christmas Eve, except for Fleur making remarks about Molly's favourite singer."

"Who's that, then?"

"Warbeck."

Cho's parents having come from China, they didn't listen to British wizarding music one way or the other, saving the wireless to listen to the news. Cho knew just enough about Celestina Warbeck, though, to dismiss her as someone from "my parents' generation." Not that she listened to much popular music in any event; even at the Yule Ball she was more familiar with the Weird Sisters' reputation than their music…

Cho suddenly realized that Penelope had stopped talking again. Cho bowed to the grate out of instinct. "I'm so sorry, Penny. Believe me, it's my fault."

"It's not about fault," Penelope smiled. "I'm not surprised; between Quidditch and your N.E.W.T.s, you have such a lot on your plate right now."

"But that doesn't give me the right to be rude!"

"Did you intend to be rude?"

"Of course not!"

"Then that settles that."

Cho wished she could reach through the Floo to hug Penelope, her oldest and most understanding friend. "Tell me about Percy, then."

"He just showed up, unannounced, in the middle of Christmas dinner. He shows up at the back door; Molly made a point of mentioning that, as if he was still living there, but Scrimgeour was with him."

"Obviously Percy's found a place working for the Minister."

"Of course the twins started tweaking him at once that it was the other way around, and that he'd got something to use against Scrimgeour. According to Molly," Penelope sighed, "things went downhill from there."

"Well, if Scrimgeour brought Percy instead of vice versa…"

"The fact is, it was all about Harry Potter. He spends the hols with the Weasleys, and Scrimgeour had to have known that from Percy. So they show up and it's all 'pleased to meet you and, by the way, who's the young man over there with the lightning bolt scar?'"

"The Minister wouldn't be so transparent, would he?"

"Apparently he was. So he takes Potter out to the garden, they talk a few minutes, and when Scrimgeour comes back he's angry as a troll with a toothache but doing all he can to hide it. So he and Potter must have had words out in the garden.

"And things weren't much better in the kitchen. Percy was there, as I said, but he looked as if he didn't want to be there. He hardly spoke to his parents, and not a word at first to the others. I suppose the twins took that as a challenge. They started mocking him and his job at the Ministry, which they made sound as if he was the tea-girl. Percy just sort of ignored them, which only provoked them. Ginny apparently was the first to go out of bounds and flicked a spoonful of mashed parsnips at Percy; she missed but the twins hit their target. Percy didn't return fire, but, well, words were said. Just like last time." Penelope had to stop again. "By the time Scrimgeour came in from the garden, Percy hadn't even had time to clean up; the Minister stormed out with Percy right behind him."

Both were silent for a minute. Then Cho asked, a bit hesitantly, "So, whose fault was all that?"

Penelope sighed. "All of them, I suppose. Percy didn't have to be so thick, but then, he's always been like that. So serious, so ambitious. It's as if he despises his father for not rising higher in the Ministry than he has, and he feels he has to set that right all by himself."

"Have you spoken to him about that?"

"I try, Cho, I try, but he stays at the Ministry and never returns my messages and won't make five minutes in his day for me, damn him!"

"Seriously, then, do you think you two still have a chance?"

"I have to think that, Cho. Either that, or I pretend Fifth Year didn't happen. And I don't just mean the basilisk, but all of it. He can't have forgotten what we were to each other then."

"And, forgive me, but there isn't anyone else, is there?"

"Not for me! And Percy hasn't been seen with anyone except Scrimgeour. Still," Penelope sighed, "I take your meaning. You can't just leave things alone and expect they'll stay the same. But, well, I suppose I'm afraid to find out if anything's changed."

"That's two of us," Cho nodded. "At least something's happened with Percy. I still have to wait and see."

"You think something will happen with you as well?"

"It has to. The last match of the year is against Gryffindor. It sounds a bit foolish, I suppose, but I've been waiting until the match; when the two captains shake hands at the beginning, then I'll know."

"Know what?"

"I'm not sure; something, anyway."

"Truth is, you sound like both my parents," Penelope half-smiled. "We'll talk more later; maybe something else'll happen. I didn't mean to keep you this long."

"Nonsense. I can't imagine us not having time to talk. Just take care of yourself in the meantime."

"You too; and give your parents my best wishes."

As Cho stood up, she realized she'd been squatting by the grate for almost an hour! Still, it was almost a pleasant kind of ache, like after a good practice session. Maybe she could still get in some flying before breakfast…

xxx

Cho made a second Floo call about an hour later, once she was dressed in her school robes even though it was Boxing Day; she was about the only Seventh Year who still bothered.

"Hello, mummy, daddy," Cho smiled. "How was Christmas for you?"

"Not perfect," her father smiled; "you would have been home for that."

"You really think I should have come, then?"

"Absolutely not!" Lotus said, a bit too vehemently. "I mean, with the war and all, there's just too much madness in the Alley these days."

"And thanks again for the presents," Xiemin interrupted. "They're really quite nice."

"I think you overspent on them, though," Lotus sniffed.

"Nonsense, mummy. Everything was properly priced and, anyway, you're worth it."

"I didn't think we gave you that large an allowance."

"Actually, you didn't. I've just learned how to use what I have to best advantage."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Lotus smiled. Cho smiled too; it may have sounded crass to an outsider, but Cho understood her mother.

"By the way, erm, did you send an owl or anything? I haven't seen anything yet."

Her father spoke up; "Actually, we haven't sent anything yet. We're still working on a couple of things. Are you sorry we didn't even send a token gift? Because we…"

"No, daddy; I was just afraid the owl might have been intercepted."

"Don't worry about it; we'll let you know."

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Lotus interrupted. "You're looking thin. Are you getting enough sleep?"

"These are the hols, mummy; eating and sleeping is all I get to do."

"Apart from Quidditch practice and studying for N.E.W.T.s; or have you stopped being a Ravenclaw?"

"You should have been one yourself, daddy. Anyway, breakfast is served soon. Take care of yourselves, and give my best wishes to the Tans."

"Of course, and give us another call before the New Year."

The light in the fireplace went out. Cho thought, not for the first time, that the older she got, the less she understood her parents. Well, there was time enough to figure them out. I hope so, anyway, Cho thought, with a shudder she couldn't suppress. She went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, even though she wasn't hungry at all.

xxx

Cho actually had a rather full day: flying for an hour after breakfast, then going to the library and finding some books on an alchemist named Hohenheim for an essay for Binns. She spent most of the rest of the day reading about his life and career, and wrapped up taking notes just as the sun was setting.

Cho found she was actually sleepy, but, as she walked toward the Great Hall, the delicious smell of curry grew stronger and stronger. She helped herself at once to the curried chicken, spooning it onto a bed of rice as white as a snowdrift. As she raised the first forkful to her lips, Michael Corner sat down opposite her.

"Happy holidays; any good news from home?"

Cho thought for a split-second about telling him Marietta's good news, but decided to wait until they were back in the Common Room. "Some good, some not," she said instead; "the parents are a bit mysterious this year. I expect yours are like that every year, though."

"Right in one," Michael said as he helped himself to a brace of mutton chops. "With their jobs, they can't even tell me if they'll be in country from one week to the next. The holidays tend to be a bit slapdash in the Corner household."

"I heard from Penelope Clearwater this morning."

"Really? Where's she at, then?"

"Still living with her parents. For a long time there's been this friction between Penny and her fiancée, but it looks like that ice is finally breaking." Cho went on to tell as much of the account of Christmas Day at the Weasleys as she felt she could. She left out all mention of Harry Potter being a houseguest, although she wasn't quite sure why.

"So Ginny started the food fight, eh? That figures. I could tell you some tales about that little bint, if your stomach can take it."

"You only told me a little bit about why you two broke up. Sounds to be more painful than you let on last year."

"I got a much closer look at her than you have, I expect. Interested?"

"Not today, thanks," Cho said, mustering up the most polite smile she could manage. The fact is, she was no longer irritated at Ginny for winning the match and the Quidditch Cup last spring. Cho blamed herself for woolgathering; she knew Ginny Weasley was certainly not her equal as a Seeker.

"Well, this week is pretty much dead."

"Didn't you get any homework, Michael?"

"Of course, and I finished it up as quickly as I could; I AM a Ravenclaw, you know."

"Ah, the luxury. Wait until your N.E.W.T. year."

"Yes. Too bad I won't be able to count on your encyclopaedic knowledge when that dread day comes."

"Well, with luck, I'll be hundreds of miles from Hogwarts, chasing down a Snitch."

"So you think the war will be over by then?"

"It ought to be, since…"; she stopped herself saying "since Harry will probably be part of the fight." Again, she didn't want to talk to Michael about him. "Since the Ministry will surely put its finest on the matter."

"Hasn't done a lot of good until now, has it? Wizards aligned with the Ministry are still being attacked, and werewolves are out and about again in larger numbers."

"Really?!"

"My parents have warned me about that much, knowing that we've had werewolf troubles here in the past."

"I hope they're not talking about Professor Lupin. I remember him as a fine Defense teacher, and quite a nice person, too."

"I suppose," Michael said as he turned his attention to his chops and muttered something about "getting cold." Cho thought something else was happening; Michael Corner had a sore spot: he hated to be contradicted, especially by a girlfriend. Most boys seem to be like that; Harry certainly was. Only Cedric seemed to be immune, but then he was almost the complete opposite of Michael Corner…

Wait a minute; does that mean he thinks of me as a girlfriend now?

Hastily eating the last of her curry, without stopping to taste it, and not even waiting for dessert, Cho stood, told Michael "See you later," and headed back to Ravenclaw.

xxx

For the rest of the week, Cho rose early and got in an hour or so of flying time just at sunrise, and only then went to breakfast. She knew the easiest opponent of the year—Hufflepuff—was already behind them. Next up was Slytherin with its usual bag of dirty tricks, and then Gryffindor—and Harry. Each in its own way was a challenge, and she knew she had to be ready. She also had a tremendous amount of homework to do, both for her regular assignments and in taking review notes for the Claw Club. Even if Voldemort launched a full-scale attack, Cho doubted that the final exams would be canceled.

Michael must have decided to sleep in this week; she never saw him at breakfast, but he'd turn up sitting across from her at lunch and dinner. They'd fallen into their routine from last spring, of simply chatting about things: sometimes schoolwork, sometimes family matters, sometimes whatever was happening in the wizarding world.

Cho realized that, as Michael told her on the platform last spring, she too missed this. Of course, she could have had these same chats with any of the girls in her dormitory, but somehow it just wasn't the same. With Michael there was always an undercurrent of something else beneath the conversation. It was like the early days of chatting up Cedric, although Michael seemed, in most ways, not as mature as Cedric. There seemed to be chances he wanted to take; Cho suspected as much, anyway, recalling the way he grabbed for her at the lake last spring. Cedric would never have done that; well, he tried to on one occasion, but stopped when Cho said something about it. And Harry—Cho had to admit to herself that there were moments when she wanted Harry to be that physical with her, for him to just kiss her unannounced, as she'd kissed him last Christmas in the Room of Requirement, and she wouldn't try to stop him at all…

"A Knut for your thoughts."

Michael sat down opposite her again, interrupting her reverie.

"Ah; just, erm, going over Quidditch strategies."

Even as she said it, Cho knew that Michael knew, somehow, that it wasn't the truth. Still, he didn't say anything about it.

xxx

For the rest of that week, it seemed to Cho, she couldn't quite get Harry Potter out of her head. It had been just over a year since the first of what proved to be a handful of kisses between them. It was an odd role reversal, thought Cho as she walked to the Prefects' Bathroom on the morning of the twenty-ninth; the Snitch had given her a rougher than usual practice session that morning, perhaps owing to the sleet that started pelting Cho just as she took off, and she didn't want to go down to breakfast without a nice warm soak and a shampoo.

Only about thirty students were allowed to use this bathroom each year, and the odds were good that it would be available, especially during the holidays. Cho gave the password and the door opened at once, closing and locking again as she entered the room.

It seemed more like a ballroom than a bathroom, wide enough to accommodate a bathtub that was more of a small swimming pool, and high enough to hold a brilliantly glowing chandelier. Everything was white marble except, of course, the taps in the tub, which dispensed bubbles, oils, and lotions. The water looked absolutely clean and steamed as if it were just hot enough on a winter's day. Cho consulted a chart of the various taps, then found the one she sought, topped by a white diamond. When she turned it, the smell of jasmine began to fill the room.

She sloughed off her robes and underwear and slipped into the warm water, feeling as if she would faint. She wasn't accustomed to such luxury; it seemed almost decadent. Still, the Ravenclaw in her reminded her to do what was necessary first: she washed up and shampooed her hair, then allowed herself a leisurely soak in the warm water.

As she paddled lazily on her back, she caught sight of the lone painting which hung in the Prefects' Bathroom: that of a mermaid, which looked more like a romanticized fairy princess with a fishtail than like the merpeople in Hogwarts' lake. This one had a pleasant smile and well-proportioned breasts, both of which were partly hidden by a mass of flowing hair. Cho couldn't help looking down at her own chest, although she seldom worried about her development in that department. This year, though, she decided that things were just good enough.

She drifted lazily toward the shallow end of the bath, close to the door. As if she'd been affected by one of the Weasley daydream charms, she fantasized that the door would open, even though it would normally refuse to do so while she was inside. But this time the door would open, and Harry Potter would walk in. He wouldn't see her at first, submerged almost to her chin in the bath. But then the door would close, he would turn and notice her, really notice her for the first time. He would think that she was beautiful, but Cho knew since Fourth Year that he thought that anyway. This would be something different, and, if she had to help things along, she would, she would stand up in the shallow end, the water line just below her navel, holding her arms wide, beckoning to Harry, who would wordlessly let his robes fall to the floor and slowly step into the bath, walking dreamlike toward Cho, who stood still, as if saying to him, Tell me, Harry, tell me what I have always meant to you, and I will show you what you have always meant to me, and with achingly slow steps Harry would close the distance between them, reaching up innocently, shyly, to touch the curve of her breast, his thumb accidentally brushing against her nipple, stiff now as the tip of a wand, his gentleness setting a flame burning within her hotter than could have been done by rougher more experienced hands…

The mermaid's giggle brought Cho back to reality, and she realized that she was brushing her own hand against her nipple.

With a stifled scream she scrambled out of the tub, pulled on her clothes, and ran at top speed back to Ravenclaw. She ran nonstop up to her dorm, leapt onto her bed, and pulled the curtains to. She didn't come out for an hour, not until she was sure her cheeks weren't still glowing Griffindor red.

xxx

On the morning of December 31 she received a lengthy scroll from Marietta. She had stayed at St. Mungo's for two days after her face had cleared up, just so the doctors could be sure. (Actually, Marietta wrote, they weren't sure of anything, and still had no idea where the pimples had come from nor why they had vanished.) Now she was home with her mother, looking forward to taking the Express back to Hogwarts.

Cho decided to wait; no sense in writing to Marietta if she'll be back in a day or two.

She went down to breakfast, where the students at table seemed to have increased. Perhaps they were thinking of skipping breakfast on New Year's Day and just having a lie-in; of course, Cho thought, that makes no sense—giving up breakfast one day but having a large meal the day before.

As Cho sat down, she saw why there were so many diners and so little conversation. The kitchen elves had laid out a half-dozen different arrangements of bangers and mash. There was traditional sausage over mashed potatoes with onion gravy; bratwurst and lightly mashed boiled potatoes with sauerkraut; apple-scented sausages over potatoes mixed with cheese; pepperoni sausage over potatoes and a brilliant red sauce. Cho was tempted to sample several of the dishes, including the chicken sausage with curried potato samosas. An hour later, feeling as if she'd gained five pounds this morning alone, Cho returned to Ravenclaw, by way of the library, where she had to check out books on homunculi.

The common room was empty. Cho went back up to her dorm, set up her books and started to take notes. When noon rolled around, she was still quite full, so she simply lay down on her bed, expecting to nap for fifteen minutes. When she awoke, two hours had passed. It took until dinnertime to catch up on her homunculi readings.

When she went back down to the common room, Michael Corner was there, sitting on the day-bed, reading some letters. Cho didn't bother him, but went on to dinner, which seemed almost dull after the interesting variety of that day's breakfast. Michael didn't come to the Great Hall, which made her wonder.

She found him still in the common room. Now, however, he was tossing the letters he'd read earlier into the fire, one at a time, and watching them turn to black ash and fly up the chimney.

"Cleaning house for the new year?" she asked.

"Something like that." He patted a spot next to him on the day-bed; Cho hesitated a minute, then sat next to him. "These are from two summers ago. I'd just started writing to Ginny Weasley after the Tri-wizard. I got to know her at the Yule Ball and—this doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No," Cho smiled. "I've made my peace with Cedric some time ago. I can actually think of him without going to pieces."

"Some would have said that was impossible last year. Good for you, then."

"You seemed rather put out by Ginny the other day."

"So did you last spring, throwing your broom around like that."

"I shouldn't have lost my temper. But then, I shouldn't have lost focus, either."

"Look, I'm trying to start a 'let's talk rotten about Ginny Weasley' party here, but you're being far too nice about it."

"Well, I don't think much of her one way or the other. But she was in the Army, and that counts for something."

"Yeh, well, I found out all about that. She didn't do much in the Army. I think she told others she'd joined up because her brothers were in it. But she only ever had one real reason to be in it."

"Umbridge?"

"Potter." Cho's eyes went wider, but Michael apparently didn't notice; he'd tossed another letter onto the fire. "I found out later she only went because of Harry Potter, and she only asked me to have me on her arm, to make him jealous, you see."

"I don't think it worked."

"Toward the end of last year, I got a right earful from her. It was Harry this and Harry that, and they ought to rename the Wronski Feint the Potter Feint. Got boring in a hurry, I can tell you."

"If you'll recall, Michael," Cho said softly, looking down at her hands, "I was rather the same way at the first meeting in Hogsmeade. I was all Harry this and Harry that as well. Did, did I bore you?"

"Oh, no, Cho, don't even think it! I mean, you were making the case for why Harry should be in charge. Ginny seemed to want a lot more than that out of him."

Cho tried to make sense of it. The younger sister of Harry's friend Ron Weasley, who was actually in the lake with her for the Second Task! "Well, wizarding families, especially the old lines, can get a bit, erm, creative when it comes to family arrangements. But Harry isn't, I mean, he hasn't…" Cho let the sentence end.

Michael shook his head. "Not as far as I've seen or heard, anyway. Ginny's been seeing Dean Thomas since summer."

"Also in the Army?"

"Yeh; tall skinny black from Griffindor."

"That's all right, then." Cho couldn't help sounding relieved. Michael raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "I only meant…"

"Easy enough to see what you meant," Michael said, as he threw the remaining letters into the fire. "You want to be sure the way is clear for you to get to Potter. But it's what I've been telling you. What Ginny says don't always match up with what she does, especially when it comes to snogging."

"Well, I know you have a history with her…"

"What would you know about it?!" Michael looked as if he'd start growling in a minute. Cho decided to get up to the dorm, but as she passed Michael, he grabbed her wrist.

"Michael, let go!"

"Not until I've said my piece." He gave her wrist a tug that sent her spinning back next to him on the day-bed. "If you're at all serious about getting back with Potter, then you'd better be careful of Ginny. You saw what she did to Zach Smith, and all he did was make a few comments during the match. If she thought you were a rival, I wouldn't put it past her to do almost anything."

"You're making far too much of this. We're completely different."

"You and Ginny, you mean?"

"No, I mean me and you. You know I still have feelings for Harry; well, I tend to wear my heart on my robes, but that's all right. If Harry's too dense to notice how I feel, that's his problem. If Ginny decides she has to attack me as a rival, that's my problem. But you say you and Ginny broke up after the last match in the spring, and you're only now burning her letters. You should have been done with her and over her by now."

"You're speaking from experience?"

"You already mentioned it; yes, I speak from the experience of losing Cedric. It took forever to get over him, it seems, but I did."

"But you're not over Potter."

"Because there's still a possibility, however slim, that we can at least be friends, regardless of what Ginny Weasley thinks."

"Trust me, that's not the way Ginny sees things. Take my advice and look for another boyfriend."

"I suppose you'd nominate a Ravenclaw for the post."

"I thought you'd never ask." Michael swooped in and planted his lips on Cho's, while pressing her against the back of the day-bed. She couldn't stand up or move out from under Michael's grasp. As she struggled to break free, one thought filled her mind:

Harry!

In that moment, some door within Cho that had been locked finally blew open. The next thing either knew, Michael was lifted off of the day-bed as if by a high wind, and deposited in the mantel.

"How did you…"

This time, he rushed up toward the ceiling, stopped short, then was slammed into the wall above the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. He fell unceremoniously to the stone floor, apparently injuring something in the process, because, after he stood up, he winced and hobbled up the stairs.

"Michael," Cho called after him, "I'm sorry…"

Michael turned and looked at Cho. "No, somehow I don't think you are. Happy New Year." He turned and hobbled up the stairs again.

Cho had to stop and think. After trying and failing to master it all semester, she finally got the idea of wordless, wandless magic—and she got it by focusing her mind on Harry—and she focused her mind on Harry because Michael Corner was mauling her again. Who gets my thanks, and who gets my apologies? And when did magic stop being about just magic?

xxx

To be continued in part 14, wherein Cho learns "the arithmancy of Quidditch".


	14. Chapter 14

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Spoilers: Everything

Rating: PG

xxx

14. The Arithmancy of Quidditch

Classes resumed at Twelfth Night, with the added distraction of Apparation lessons for those who were (or would be) old enough. Cho ignored it all, and even claimed not to recall her coming eighteenth birthday. With a singleness of purpose rare even for a Seventh Year Ravenclaw, she focused intently on her N.E.W.T. courses and on the Quidditch Cup. She knew that her career post-Hogwarts would revolve around her parents' apothecary, unless she shone like a star in one field or the other.

Quidditch was her preference, of course. There were no guarantees; there couldn't ever be. Yet her father had become acquainted with the manager of the Tornadoes, just to let them know that his daughter was both a committed fan and a talented Seeker. The idea stayed in her mind, always less than a promise but more than just a dream.

And then there was the Auror track. Ever since her brief time in the ranks of Dumbledore's Army, she realized that this possibility lay open for her as well: the chance to do something constructive for the Ministry during the war. She still wasn't entirely sure what that might be, and she still didn't trust the Ministry of Magic entirely; these were the wizards, after all, who inflicted Dolores Jane Umbridge onto Hogwarts last year. Still, she would rationalize, there may not have been a Dumbledore's Army if Umbridge hadn't been such a fool. So she practiced avidly, especially her wordless and wandless spell-casting. If Snape even noticed the improvement in her witchcraft, he gave no sign. But Cho was used to this kind of treatment from Snape.

Marietta Edgecombe returned to Hogwarts in triumph (as far as Cho was concerned), with only a little scarring left on her face to show that she had suffered Granger's curse. Cho remembered Granger's last words to her: "This conversation never took place." Yet she still toyed with the notion of getting Granger some sort of small gift. She needed to know how much Marietta had improved with the lifting of the curse.

Marietta, who still missed very little where Cho was concerned, noticed how Michael Corner would glance into a room where Cho might be, and seem to visibly relax if she weren't there. If she were, he would briskly walk to wherever he was headed, making sure not to come within several yards of Cho. Marietta asked about this several times during the first week of the term, and Cho's reply was always some variation on the same statement: "Can we talk about this later, please? It really isn't that important."

xxx

Marietta, and everyone else in Ravenclaw House—not just those on the Quidditch team—understood Cho's concerns. After the very first match last year, the traditional grudge-match of Gryffindor versus Slytherin, she had posted the score: G 290, S 40. A few weeks later she'd added more numbers: R 450, H 60. To Cho, those numbers told the whole story; as they had been for years, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were the strongest teams. Slytherin never usually counted, even despite the streak they enjoyed before Cho arrived at Hogwarts, because they couldn't sustain their victories without cheating. And this year, for whatever reason, they were just a shadow of their former selves. So Cho felt justified in her strategy: play as if the match with Gryffindor is all that matters, and use the other teams to run up the score.

What happened after that was what some called the arithmancy of Quidditch. On February 15, Ravenclaw made surprisingly short work of Slytherin. The day was wet and dreary, but not too cold and not too windy. Nobody seemed to want to be out long, whether the players (and Draco Malfoy was missing from the Slytherin ranks once again, making it easy for Cho to fly rings around Harper, the Slytherin Reserve Seeker) or the spectators, or the commentator, actually the return of Zacharias Smith to the megaphone. His comments, however, continued to favour his own House so blatantly that McGonagall was constantly stopping him in mid-sentence. If he was supposed to learn anything from being rammed by Ginny Weasley, it seemed not to have taken.

Still, the only thing that mattered was the score: Ravenclaw over Slytherin, 190 to 50.

Then came March 8, the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match-up. Another Weasley was Cho's focus: Ron, the Gryffindor Keeper. He'd ended up in the hospital wing the week before through a strange set of circumstances. According to Marcus Belby, who had cultivated some other former favourites of Slughorn, "Weasley had had a birthday; Potter gave him some leftover Christmas chocolates, which were actually laced with a powerful love potion. Instead of going straight to the hospital wing, like a sensible Ravenclaw, Potter drags him over to Slughorn's office."

The Ravenclaw Quidditch team and half the Seventh Years were gathered in the Common Room the night before the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, listening to Belby's account of events.

"Why all the way to Slughorn? It can't be nearer Gryffindor than the hospital wing, can it?" Marietta asked.

"Who knows? Potter and Weasley are mates, and he probably panicked, thinking that the chockies were meant for him rather than Weasley. Anyway, he drags Weasley down to Slughorn's office in the dungeons, and no sooner do they neutralize the love potion than Potter mentions it's Weasley's seventeenth birthday. Well, it's no surprise to me that Slug would insist on celebrating; he's one to look for any old excuse. Still, he pours out glasses of champagne, Weasley drinks it straightway and starts frothing at the mouth. Someone had slipped Slughorn a poisoned bottle."

Eddie Carmichael gave a low whistle. "Who'd have it in for him, then?"

"Snape, perhaps?" Pablo suggested. "Don't forget, we're talking about poison here."

"I don't think so," Belby shook his head. "I can't imagine Snape wanting to stay on as Defense professor and get his Potions job back; that's too much for anyone, even Dumbledore. Besides, Weasley had already been hit with a love potion from some admirer of Potter, and the Muggles do say that poison is a woman's weapon."

"Present company excepted?" Cho asked.

"Of course," Belby said, although he blushed a bit as he said it. "Still and all, I'm surprised Weasley is still in the wing."

"That all depends," Cho said. "Did you hear what Pomfrey is treating Weasley with?"

"Yeh, Potter's had to tell the story so many times that everyone in Gryffindor knows it. She's using essence of rue."

"Cripes!" Pablo interrupted. "Talk of the cure being as bad as the disease."

"Really?" Chambers asked. "It's an herb; how bad can it be?"

"Claw Club!" Cho called out. "Tell us about rue."

"Very old herb," Marietta said, from a spot by the girls' dormitory stairs where she had been listening without seeming as if she was listening. "From the Greek reuo. It used to be used to chase away witches; a notable failure, of course," she smiled.

"Also used to chase away fleas," added Carmichael, "where it was more effective."

Pablo added, "But it stinks something awful, and the sap of the rue bush has been known to burn the skin."

"What kind of poison would need all that?" Sara Anand asked. Like Marietta, she had come into the Common Room in the middle of the story and stayed to listen.

Cho spoke up: "I'd say something parasitic; not another herb or a chemical. Madam Pomfrey probably figures there's tiny worms or something that could live in the wine and attack whoever drinks it, possibly by reproducing at a great rate, or devouring the person from the inside." Even though Cho had no great affection for Ron Weasley, she shuddered to think of the fate he nearly suffered. "It would also explain why he's been in for a week. Pomfrey would want to make sure not only that the original pests were killed, but that any eggs they laid didn't hatch."

"Full points for Ravenclaw," Belby grinned. "If we test this spring that easily, the N.E.W.T.s will be a doddle."

"And if tomorrow's match is a low-scorer, then the Cup's as good as ours, right, Cho?" asked Pablo.

"We'll keep a good thought," Cho smiled.

xxx

Cho should have realized what would happen when, at breakfast the next morning, she overheard Jan telling Marietta that "I seen summat weird t'other day. Luna was readin' "Quidditch Through the Ages," an' makin' notes on the pages an' all. Din't think that was her type o' readin' matter."

"I suppose she'd have to read something that isn't the Quibbler at some time or other. I wouldn't worry about it."

Cho's only concern was the possible point spread between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, so she put Luna Lovegood out of her mind. Until just before the match started.

As they made their way toward some empty seats, Cho asked Marietta, "You were saying something this morning about Luna Lovegood and a Quidditch book. Since you've mentioned it, I haven't seen Luna yet today; have you?"

"No," Marietta glanced around the stadium. "You'd think we'd at least have heard from that silly…"

She was interrupted by a loud roar coming through Professor McGonagall's enchanted megaphone. This was followed by Professor McGonagall's voice: "Miss Lovegood, if that hat makes one more sound I shall have to ask it and you to leave the booth!"

Cho and Marietta must have given each other horrified gazes as they realized where Luna was. As they slipped into their seats, Cho said, "Cheer up, Marietta; this may turn out to be the best match of the year."

"Or the worst," Marietta added gloomily.

xxx

For Cho, it was a little of both. Luna seemed to be as hopeless a commentator as Dennis Creevey, with the added bonus of not caring a jot that she was hopeless. She blithely went on with her commentaries, laced with personal observations about the players, the weather, the Ministry, and her father's quest for a Crumple-Horned Snorcack. It was all irrelevant to Cho, who had no trouble following the match. Cormac McLaggen the Reserve Keeper for Gryffindor, was passable enough at protecting the side, and the score was 70 to 40 when disaster, also known as Cormac McLaggen, struck.

Cho thought for a moment that she was hallucinating; McLagen had taken a Beater's bat and was explaining some fine point of the position—in the middle of a match! What sort of a lunatic would… Just then, McLaggen swung at a Bludger, sending it straight into the back of Harry Potter's head and knocking him off his broom.

Cho was on her feet in an instant, watching as the Gryffindor Beaters, Coote and Peake, rushed down to break Harry's fall. As he was taken out of the stadium, Cho was making her way to the aisle.

"Cho!" Marietta called out. "Aren't you going to stay for the final score?"

Cho stopped in her tracks for just a second, and yelled "Damn the score!" Then she was off down the stairs toward the exit.

This wasn't the first time she'd seen Harry Potter injured during a match, but it was her first and only year as Captain, and here she was, ignoring the score for the time being. As she followed Hagrid's retreating form back to the castle, she and Marietta were thinking the same thing: Cho wasn't "over" Harry Potter—not anything like. She might never be "over" him.

xxx

Unlike her previous attempts to get into the hospital wing to see Harry, this time Cho met failure at every turn. For one thing, Harry shared the wing with Ron Weasley, and both their friends came to visit at all hours. Finally, Cho gave it up on Sunday evening, especially after Belby asked Sprout and Sprout said that Harry would be gone by next breakfast.

Still, by the following Sunday, Cho had recovered enough of her focus that she posted the score of the last match (320 to 60, Hufflepuff's win; Gryffindor's Reserve Seeker, presumably the Weasley girl again, couldn't cope with the mid-game substitution, beside which Summerby of Hufflepuff had her beat in terms of experience). April added the penultimate match, in which Slytherin was finally able to score a win, besting Huffepuff 320 to 60. She then factored the scores into the final totals: Ravenclaw 640, Hufflepuff 440, Slytherin 410, Gryffindor 350.

The numbers spoke for themselves. Gryffindor would have to beat Ravenclaw in the final match by 300 points or better; otherwise, Ravenclaw would take the Cup. If Gryffindor actually lost by 100 points, they'd be in third place behind Hufflepuff; any showing worse than that would leave Gryffindor after Slytherin in last place. True, Gryffindor had caught some lucky breaks as the spring wore on, most notably the return of Chaser Katie Bell from St. Mungo's after her exposure to the cursed necklace, and the mercurial Ron Weasley seemed to be recovering his form. Still, Cho called for extra practices in the two weeks before the last match, because, after all, anything could happen.

xxx

To be continued in part 15, wherein Cho plays the final match of her Hogwarts years.


	15. Chapter 15

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Spoilers: Everything

Rating: PG

xxx

15. Luck

The seventeenth of May dawned as fine and fair as anyone could have wished.

Cho Chang awoke with the dawn, and part of her wished that this day had never come.

It was, after all, her last match at Hogwarts. There still lay ahead the prospect of playing Seeker for some professional team or other; perhaps even Tutshill. But all that was speculation for the future. Her only real experience as Seeker would come to an end by lunch-time.

The match itself was, for Cho, a foregone conclusion. Ravenclaw had played consistently well this year; better than Gryffindor, which had suffered from injuries, curses, and inflated egos. Still, the main reason Cho had looked forward to this match had nothing to do with Quidditch:

Harry Potter.

She and Harry had parted a year ago on the worst possible terms: with Cho defending her friendship with Marietta, while Harry—obstinate, temperamental Harry—defended Granger's curse. At least the curse had been lifted, but there was still the matter of how they felt about each other. Rather, there was no question of how Cho felt about Harry; a part of her had loved him even before she went to the Yule Ball with Cedric. That part of her hoped, even during the six months she and Cedric were a couple, that Harry could be their friend.

Friend; there's a joke for you, Cho thought, with more than a little bitterness. I wanted them both to love me, just as I wanted to love both of them at the same time. It could never have happened; I was fooling myself. But, while it lasted, it was such glorious folly.

When Cedric was killed, Cho was partly convinced that it was all her fault, for trying to keep the two boys in her life in balance, for not wanting to choose. Suddenly, the choice had been made for her, and as the year went on, with the chat in the Owlery, the formation of Dumbledore's Army, their kiss under the mistletoe, Cho's belief only strengthened that it was the right choice: that there was an enduring, undeniable bond between her and Harry. Except that Harry seemed to be doing his best to deny it. Maybe he was just immature, or maybe he was just obtuse. Surely there was nothing there that Cho couldn't deal with, through patience and compassion; if only Harry was willing. Did his friendship with Granger mean that much more to him than did Cho's love and devotion?

A year ago, Cho would be scolding herself for letting such fancies get caught up with Quidditch. She was supposed to be concentrating on the match; except that this was the match. It would all come down to shaking Harry's hand just as play started; she hadn't seen him, spoken to him, or sought him out. Today, she would know, in that handshake, what his feelings were toward her.

xxx

But all of that was in doubt now. Just the other day, Moaning Myrtle had been heard screaming, worse than usual, what seemed to be headlines out of the Daily Prophet. "Murderous Attack Upon Draco Malfoy!" she howled at one point to anyone who would listen. "Snape Takes Charge of Assailant Potter!"

Harry assaulted Malfoy? Granted, there was never any love between them, but murder? Harry Potter? He had a chance to kill Sirius Black, and didn't take it.

"Don't know what it was," Chambers reported back to Cho that Friday night, as the team gathered in the Common Room. He had gone to the hospital wing, escorting a student who had been attacked by one of the carnivorous plants in Greenhouse IV. He took advantage of his being there to look at Malfoy's medical chart—or try to. "Pomfrey must have recognised it, but enchanted the chart so that I couldn't read precisely what happened. Leads me to think it was pretty Dark, whatever it was."

"Wait a minute! Harry and the Dark Arts? That's absurd!" Cho was on her feet even before she realized it. She caught herself before saying anything else and sat down again.

"Well, something cut Malfoy up a treat," Sara Anand added. "Myrtle's still saying there was blood everywhere."

"And Myrtle never exaggerates?" asked Pablo Molina.

"I think it's irrelevant," Cho interrupted, causing everyone to look at her. "After all," she said, a bit nervously, "we're not playing Slytherin tomorrow. If Harry Potter were in the hospital wing…" She let the sentence trail off.

Cho, however, had failed to realize one thing: just because Harry wasn't in the hospital wing didn't mean he would be on the pitch.

xxx

"Some theorise that Thestrals are best domesticated by males, just as unicorns are best domesticated by females. But the fact is, anybody who's ever been bitten by a Whitbury Weevil…"

There was no way to know if Luna Lovegood even realized that her theories were being broadcast all over the stadium, or that a goodly share of the audience was laughing at her. McGonagall, who was with Lovegood in the commentator's box, must have had a terrible time holding her tongue.

The Ravenclaw team was suited up and in the changing room, waiting for the match to start, or for McGonagall to throw Luna head-first out of the box.

"Ah, here's something," Luna announced. "I've been given a piece of paper that says that, well, it doesn't really say anything; it's got writing on it."

"And the point of the writing?" McGonagall asked, her voice seething.

"That Ginny Weasley will be Seeker for Gryffindor today."

Cho stared at the canvas wall, mouthing the word "no," and shaking her head.

"Well," Chambers said, "there's a howdy-do. Cho, good news or bad news?"

"What?" She seemed to have forgotten where she was. "Erm, I'm not sure. I need a minute to think."

Actually, the last thing Cho wanted to do was think. She wanted to run—run from the stadium, run to Gryffindor House, force her way in and demand to speak to Harry Potter. She'd waited months for this opportunity to present itself, and now it had failed to do so. She'd have to look into herself, get a Gryffindor's courage—get it from somewhere—and make the opportunity happen. Someday.

Meanwhile, she was stuck playing Seeker against the Weasley girl, as she had last year. What strategy to use? She lost last year to Weasley; that much was clear. Weasley was hardly the superior Seeker. Cho had been woolgathering, not paying attention, and allowed Weasley to come in from below, and literally reach up and take the Snitch out from under Cho.

But Weasley had also been Seeker a few months earlier, against Hufflepuff. She was up against another older, more experienced Seeker, Summerby, and had gotten to the Snitch by…

By flying under Summerby and reaching up for it.

Flying under and reaching up!

Cho had an epiphany.

"Erm, they're calling us, Captain," Pablo Molina said, as if he was afraid to disturb her.

Cho, who had been running Quidditch plays in her head, came back to the changing room. "Right; let's go, then."

"And here's the Ravenclaw team," Luna said happily, her words echoing around the stadium. "During the other years I've been here, Cho Chang has been at the end of the line because, well, she's the Seeker and that's tradition. But this year she's been leading the other players onto the field because she's the Captain of the team. And I think that was a really good choice."

Cho looked down at her feet as the Ravenclaw section cheered. She didn't want them all to see her blushing. By the time the players reached the middle of the pitch, she'd composed her face into an emotionless mask.

Madam Hooch gave the usual cautions about playing a fair match with no trickery. No sooner had she finished than Ginny Weasley took two paces forward, her hand extended. She expected Cho to shake it.

Cho didn't move. Instead, she looked directly at Madam Hooch and said, "The Gryffindor Captain isn't here."

Hooch considered things for a few seconds, then half-smiled. "True enough, Miss Chang. Nothing in the rules or the traditions says that the Captain can designate a reserve handshaker. Get back in line, Miss Weasley."

"No." Ginny looked as if she was about to stamp her foot.

"Miss Weasley, I've made my ruling."

"It's not fair!"

"Miss Weasley, do you really want to start the match with a ten-point deficit for Gryffindor? Because that's the penalty for defying the ruling of a referee. Now, step back."

Ginny held her ground for a few more seconds, then shrugged, as if the whole conversation were about nothing at all, turned and got back in line.

Cho barely heard Hooch's whistle, barely heard Luna's commentary as it rang through the stadium. She was still wrapped up in her epiphany:

Ginny Weasley was a one-trick pony. She only knew the one maneuver she'd used against Cho and Summerby: wait until the opposition Seeker finds the Snitch, then sneak up from beneath. Cho knew she could defend herself against that.

Cho scanned the skies, and quickly found the Snitch, bobbing up and down on the breezes above the stadium. She took off toward it. She slowed down as she approached, trying not to frighten the Snitch off; then, she leaned forward until her body was parallel to the broom. She waited until she caught a telltale sign of movement out of the edge of her field of vision, and rolled to the side until she was hanging upside down.

Just as she knew she would, Cho looked into the surprised face of Ginny Weasley.

"Surprise," Cho smiled. "No stealing the Snitch today. If you want it, you'll have to work for it."

Ginny looked surprised at first, then regained her composure. "Oh, I'll get it, all right. I'm going to make you cry all over again today."

"Sorry. I'm past all that, and you're no longer a beginner. Don't expect to get lucky against me twice."

"You think you're the lucky one here? Better think again; today I'm feeling positively—felicitous."

Odd choice of words, Cho thought.

"This isn't going to be your day, you weepy old cow!"

Cho's expression didn't change. "I've been called much worse, by much better than you!" And she peeled off, away from Ginny, climbing to get a better view of the Snitch.

Weasley trailed along behind her, all pretense at staying hidden now gone. The two of them fought openly for the Snitch. Each time one tried to grab it, the other tried to push it away or block the other Seeker's hand. Of course, this was noticed in the commentator's box:

"Look at them up there," Luna said happily, "grabbing for the Snitch, batting each other's hands away; they look just like that pair of kittens with a ball of yarn. You remember, Professor, on this plate in Professor Umbridge's office..."

"Stick to talking about the match, Miss Lovegood, and twenty points from Ravenclaw if you EVER use that name again!"

"Ah," Luna said, no less happily, "look at the score! Ravenclaw's favour, one hundred to ninety."

What?!? What happened to Keeper Millbank? They were supposed to keep well ahead of Gryffindor on points. No wonder Weasley was Seeking so aggressively. Things were too close now, and it was all down to the Seekers. Cho lunged at the Snitch again, but Weasley shouldered Cho off-course and it sped away. The two of them chased after it, as if on the same broom.

As the aerial Seeker duel continued, Cho listened with sinking heart as the Gryffindors edged ahead on goals, and kept widening their lead. Cho kept trying to grab the Snitch, only to be repeatedly blocked by Weasley. Some of those blocks were blatant fouls, repeatedly blurting Cho by hitting their broomsticks together, grabbing at Cho's robes or broom or whatever was within reach to slow her down. The gap widened, and still neither Seeker had the Snitch.

It wasn't a hot day, but Cho was sweating from nerves and exhaustion. She was running out of time. It was Gryffindor two hundred eighty to one hundred forty. Two more goals and they would have exceeded the safety lead Ravenclaw had built up all year. She put on an extra bit of speed to get close to the Snitch again, and again she missed the grab as Weasley pulled at her robes.

"Goal for Gryffindor!" Luna gushed. This was the last chance. She closed in on the Snitch yet again, with Weasley still at her side.

"I have some news for you;" Weasley said over the rush of the wind. "Today I get the Snitch, I get the Cup and I get..."

"Goal for Gryf…"

Before the name was even out of Luna's mouth, Ginny thrust out her fist, punching Cho in the ribs as hard as she could. As Cho doubled over in pain, Ginny grabbed the Snitch, shouting "HARRY!" as if calling to him in the stands.

xxx

Cho was still sitting in the empty changing room by herself fifteen minutes after the match had ended. She barely heard the door open and close.

"Tell me what happened, then."

Madam Hooch.

"Nothing happened. I'm just not as good as I thought."

Cho tried to sit up straighter, but the pain in her ribs made her wince slightly. It was just a small grimace, and she tried to hide it, but Madam Hooch saw it. "Right; show me."

"Beg pardon?"

"You're hurt; show me." Cho didn't make a move. "Either you shift your own robes, or I'll spell them off you myself. One or the other, Miss Chang."

Cho sighed and drew her robes up on her left side. She didn't even have to look at the bruise; she knew it would be there.

Hooch's face grew even more serious, studying the bruise as if she could see through the skin to the bones underneath. "Do you figure anything's broken?"

"No. I remember how a broken rib feels, and this isn't it. It's just a bruise."

"But it still looks nasty. Care to comment on it?" Cho stayed silent. "That's too small to have been made by a Bludger, and the only one who got near enough to you to do that was the Gryffindor Seeker. Is that it?"

"It ... it happened at the whistle. I didn't want to say anything."

"If you were fouled, why not?"

"I didn't want to seem a sore loser. Weasley would probably claim this was self-inflicted, or I'd got it in practice, and was making an issue of it just to get the Cup. If you didn't see her do it, there's no way to be sure, is there?"

"Pardon my language, but she's damned lucky then."

"Yes," Cho said, then stopped, saying half-aloud, "Felicitous."

"What's that?"

"Sorry; my mind wandered." She looked up into the golden eyes of Madam Hooch. "Guess I don't have much chance of being anyone's Seeker, do I?"

Hooch stood for a minute, then sat on a nearby bench. "Apparently you've forgotten that Ravenclaw was in first place going into this match. Do you think it blundered into first place, or maybe stole it? You flew three excellent matches this year, including this one. But you know that, or you should. If you were fouled, that only meant Gryffindor thought that there was no other way of getting past you to the Cup. I think any professional team would be lucky to have you Seek for them, and I'm prepared to go any place at any time to say so."

Cho didn't know what to say. Madam Hooch stood up, walked over and laid a hand on Cho's shoulder. "It's been an honour, and a pleasure, watching you fly these few years. Good luck to you, Miss Chang."

Cho could barely whisper "Thank you." Hooch patted her on the shoulder and left.

She sighed. It was over. Just like that; Quidditch at Hogwarts was over for her, maybe Quidditch any place. Ravenclaw had to settle for second, again, although the house would certainly do better on exams than Gryffindor, so the House Cup was still within reach. And she'd done her best, and they'd only lost the Quidditch Cup by ten points.

But that's the whole point; she'd lost them the House Quidditch Cup.

She walked back to the castle, not really seeing the scenery around her; if anyone passed her, it just didn't register, nor did the fine weather. She walked, dazed and numb, all the way back to the entrance to Ravenclaw House--

where she had to stop. The rest of the team was standing in the hall, in front of the tapestry.

"Well, it's about time," Chambers smiled. "We were about to send for an Auror. Where've you been?!"

"I just, I didn't think you'd want to..."

"Hold it," Millbanks interrupted. "If anyone's to blame for losing the Cup, it's me. Low scoring game; we all agreed. But something went off with my Keeping; don't ask what or why, because I don't know. And we had to run a different strategy against changes in the Gryffindor team. And still they only won it by inches."

"I suppose it's a letdown playing your last match here and all," added Becksnee, "but we've played all year as a team. We've won as a team, and it just so happened we lost as a team. It's not about you alone, so don't even start to think that."

"As for the House," smiled Millbanks, "Ravenclaw ought to be smart enough to see all that for itself. So; ready?"

Cho beamed at the other players through her feelings of foolishness; how could she ever have forgotten what was so important about Quidditch? She nodded as four voices called out the password: "Antediluvian!" The tapestry folded back...

and they could see past the bookcase, which had been left open, to a crowded Common Room, which burst into applause even before the first player set foot there.

xxx

Cho pretty much put the match out of her mind for the next two weeks. She only had one occasion to be reminded of it.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the weather was at its best. With still another couple of weeks before the N.E.W.T.s, Cho felt confident enough to relax, at least a little bit. Yes, she had to recite Potions formulae and prepare to translate Rune texts, but there was no reason she couldn't do all that while strolling around the lake, was there?

She didn't keep her mind on the upcoming exams for more than a few minutes. After all, she'd pretty much stayed in Ravenclaw House or the Hogwarts library after the last Quidditch match. She didn't even take meals half the time. It didn't matter to her, though. The weather was glorious, and she hadn't felt so alive in years.

Alive. Cho realized that the second anniversary of Cedric's murder would be there soon. She also realized that she no longer went all to pieces when she remembered him. Funny how there had been so many other deaths at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and yet hardly anyone spoke of Cedric as one of those victims. The price he paid for being one of the first, perhaps. Hufflepuffs always seem to have such rotten—

A sudden rustling came from some bushes not ten feet away. Cho froze, until a squirrel leapt out of the bushes, ran across her path, and disappeared up a tree.

Cho almost laughed. She'd been startled by a squirrel. It wasn't even something truly dangerous, like a werewolf or a troll. She actually felt equipped to deal with them.

Then the bushes started rustling again. The squirrel hadn't done that; whatever had was still on the other side. Feeling in absolutely no danger, Cho slowly circled around to the other side of the bushes.

There she saw two students, rolling in the grass, their mouths locked together like Roger and Fawcett at Puddifoot's; like she and Cedric had been so many times in the garden. But one of these students was Ginny Weasley; the other had disordered black hair that went everywhere but failed to cover the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead…

Cho's first thought was, she later realized, utterly absurd: "Does this mean that the Prophet got it wrong? That it was never Granger?" Her second thought was so horrible that she realized she had to leave, to get away from the two snogging in the dirt. She backed away, unable to take her eyes off them, until her foot hit a root and she fell back.

If the snoggers saw or heard her, they gave no sign.

Cho banged one elbow when she fell but was otherwise none the worse for the fall. Her coin pouch, however, had fallen out of her pocket. As she picked it up, a seam gave way and several Galleons fell to the ground. As she picked them up and put them in her pocket, she recognized one: the DA Galleon enchanted by Hermione Granger to tell the date and time of the next meeting of Dumbledore's Army.

Cho now felt sick as she remembered her time in the Room of Requirement. She took the enchanted Galleon and threw it into the lake. Yet, as soon as it left her hand, she regretted it; without words or wand, she cast an Accio spell, halting the Galleon in mid-air and making it fly back into her hand.

That seemed to set her free; she ran all the way back to the castle, still clutching the Galleon. She ran to Ravenclaw, through the Common Room (where some Seventh Years were studying and others were dozing) and up to her dormitory. She paused to take a breath, threw the Galleon into her trunk, slammed the lid, fell onto her bed and wept into her pillow.

She finally had to confront a fact no less painful than Cedric's death: Harry Potter was lost to her. Her goal was to win back his love, but that was impossible now. He had found someone who could make him happy in ways that Cho could not. Not that this was a bad thing, part of her still stated; all she ever really wanted was for Harry to be happy. But did it have to be Ginny Weasley who made him happy?

xxx

So it was that, when the Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts just a few days later, Cho's Galleon, which gave the warning, was in her trunk.

xxx

To be continued in part 16, wherein Cho attends a funeral and ponders her next move.


	16. Chapter 16

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Spoilers: Everything

Rating: PG

xxx

16. Leaving

"Dear Mummy and Daddy,"

Cho paused. She'd never written a letter like this in her life.

"By now you know what's happened to Headmaster Dumbledore. The only good thing that can come of all this is that Minister Scrimgeour has been publicly shown up to be" Here she took another pause. "less than effective in countering the return of the Dark Lord. Speculation here, among students, faculty, and villagers in Hogsmeade, is that we shall have yet another new Minister, very soon."

And high time, too, Cho thought to himself. If the Ministry had told the truth after the Tri-Wizard, things would have gone very differently. Of course, if they'd told the truth, and not sent that beastly Umbridge woman to Hogwarts, then there wouldn't have been a DA, I suppose. And I don't know where I'd be with Harry.

For that matter, I don't know where I am with Harry now.

Maybe I do. If I start acting like Fudge and pretending that Weasley girl doesn't exist…

She put the quill down on her writing-desk and wiped her eyes. Not because she'd been crying, which she hadn't been, but because she was exhausted. Since the attack on Hogwarts she, like most of the students and faculty, had gotten only an hour or two of sleep in the two days since the attack. Some of it was nerves; after all, the first lesson of history is that anything that has happened can happen again, and everyone seemed to expect another attack. Look at the Patils: Padma and her Gryffindor twin. The day after the attack, their parents came up to Hogwarts and spirited them away. If either of the twins put up a fight, they did so in private.

Another student who left with a great deal of show was Zacharias Smith, the Hufflepuff who perhaps contributed the least to Dumbledore's Army. He was forever finding fault with everyone and everything, from Harry's instructions to the Army to almost every move made in almost every Quidditch match. His commentating was so awful that, after the end of one match, Ginny Weasley (Cho couldn't help but shudder now when she thought of Ginny) rammed her broom into Smith's box.

Anyway, no sooner had the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts than Arnolphus Smith, Zacharias's father, swoops down to take his precious son home, and good riddance. But first, he spends twenty minutes publicly dressing down Acting Headmistress McGonagall in front of students and faculty and all. He just kept going on and on about "We cannot possibly remain here under these circumstances," and "We knew that a disaster like this would happen in time," and "We should never have come to this poorly administered institution, and we are now correcting that mistake."

"You'd think he was here all this time with his son," Cho whispered to Pablo Molina as they watched Smith the father scolding McGonagall. "What does he mean, saying 'we' all the time?"

Pablo looked around to make sure he couldn't be overheard, and muttered, "I think he means him and the broomstick he has shoved up his bum."

Cho tried very hard not to laugh. Under the circumstances, it would have been a very awkward explanation.

Others stayed, of course, and were equally visible about it. Sara Anand and her mother (who had also been in Ravenclaw) got into a colossal screaming match in the middle of the Common Room, in a language which nobody else understood. They seemed to be on the verge of throwing spells, or furniture, at each other, when the mother gave in, letting Sara stay until Dumbledore's funeral. "But," she added on her way out of Hogwarts, "this summer we'll look at other schools for the future."

But now it was all moot. It was the third day after the attack; after Dumbledore's funeral later that day, the students would pile onto the Hogwarts Express. Cho returned to her letter.

"I don't mean to sound cold and self-centered at a time like this, but nobody—not the Ministry, the school, not anyone—has said anything about the N.E.W.T.s, which after all are the main reason I'm at Hogwarts: to be certified in magic by the Ministry. There are rumours that the school won't even re-open after today, in which case I suppose we'd just end up trooping down to the Ministry itself to take the N.E.W.T.s at some point, maybe later this summer.

"Ah, well, as my Magical Creatures professor once said, what's coming will come. I just wish I knew when.

"I'll see you tonight when the train pulls in." She paused a moment, then added: "And I'll have something very important to ask you."

That last line was added on impulse, but, as she rolled up the parchment, tied it to the leg of Quan Yin, and let the owl out of her dormitory window, she realized that this was something she should have asked before. Well, maybe she couldn't have asked it before, but she surely needed to ask now.

Marietta came into the room, carrying half a dozen books she'd left in the Common Room for months, or even years. She was no longer sure she'd be coming back, either, and dropped them into the open trunk on her bed. "Cho," she said softly, still looking down at the books in the trunk, "are you sure you're up for this?"

"I suppose I am," Cho sighed. "I've never been to a funeral before."

"Not even Cedric's?"

"No; his parents buried him while we were still up here. Just wanted to get it over with, I suppose. Otherwise half of Hufflepuff would have been there, I'm sure."

"It's funny; this is the first time I've dared mention Cedric in ages, and you haven't fallen apart."

"I think I'm finally over all that," Cho said, "and you had a lot to do with it." Marietta turned to look at Cho. "Did I tell you I saw someone after Cedric was killed? Some kind of Muggle doctor that Penny Clearwater recommended."

"Have you heard from Penny lately?"

Cho shook her head. "She really thinks she's a target, along with her parents, because she's Muggle-born. I'll look her up when we get back. Anyway, this doctor basically told me that there's no set timetable for these things. If I needed to scream or cry, I should just scream or cry, and trust that people would understand. You did, anyway. I'm grateful to you forever for that."

"You'd have done the same if the ruby slipper were on the other foot," Marietta smiled. "I was just doing my duty as a Prefect."

"As a friend," Cho corrected.

"Anyway," Marietta interrupted a bit louder, "let's try for seats in the back. Sooner it's over, the sooner we can be on the train."

xxx

Cho walked slowly, deliberately through the corridors of Hogwarts, as if she didn't want to get to the memorial service on time. Marietta knew better than to prod her, but, when Cho stopped at the door to the hospital wing, she had to ask, "What's so special here?"

"Too many things," Cho replied quietly. "I remember every time I was in there, of course, and when Penny and the others were in there because of the basilisk. I used to chat up Cedric here when one of the Hufflepuffs was in there."

"And?" Marietta raised one eyebrow.

"Yes," Cho sighed, "and Harry; every time he was in there."

"Cho, how could you be like this? I mean, after you saw him with the Weasley girl and all."

"Marietta, I don't completely understand it myself, but I have to let Harry go where his heart tells him to go, even if it's not to me."

"Even if it hurts like hell?"

"It would be easier if it did, but, honestly, it doesn't. I've thought about it all since I saw them, and the truth is that it's rather liberating."

"Then you've given him up."

"Actually, I haven't. I've just learned to wait."

"For what?"

"For Harry to come to his senses."

"But what if he never does? What if Weasley's got her claws so deep into him that he's forgotten you?"

Cho paused for a moment, then replied, "He won't; I'm sure of that."

Marietta shook her head and sighed. "Maybe this is all some Chinese thing I just don't get. But the odds are that he's left you on the side of the road. Can you really deal with that?"

"I'm sure that I can," Cho smiled, "whatever happens. Or doesn't happen."

"Well, I give up. Explain it to me this summer by owl. We'd better hurry; it'll be starting soon."

"Go on ahead; I'll catch up."

Marietta looked as if she wanted to tell Cho, you're not going and we both know it. Instead she just shrugged her shoulders and left the entrance, going down the stone steps.

Cho was actually in a rather complicated place. This wasn't just the end of term; this was, unexpectedly, her last day at Hogwarts. So much had happened to her here, and not all of it had to do with the Ministry's magical curriculum.

There didn't seem to be anyone about, not even the ghosts. Cho considered whether it was a mark of disrespect not to attend Dumbledore's funeral. Cho realized that she didn't really care what others thought about her: not Flitwick, not her fellow Ravenclaws, not the other faculty and students. She had something in mind.

She went back up to Ravenclaw House, gave the password to get through the tapestry ("borborygmus," which made her wonder if Grimaldi had chosen it) and walked up to the bookcase. The shelves were half-empty, whether because students have already gone, voluntarily or not, or whether books had been taken in preparation for the journey home. She decided she wasn't going to take her copy of the Analects until she was absolutely on her way to the Hogsmeade station. As she touched one finger to the spine and the bookcase opened, she felt as if she'd never touched that book before, or hadn't realized exactly how it felt.

The Common Room was still full of books, and probably would be until Hogwarts fell into total ruin. There were volumes she would have liked to take, if only because she thought she'd never see them again. But it wasn't her property. She slowly walked up to the dormitory.

Cho was struck again by the presence of four large four-poster beds in the room. Her class had started with six girls; now, one was gone with her family to Iran, and another was gone with her family to Voldemort. She sat at her writing-desk, which in an hour's time would stop being her writing-desk, and thought again about herself and her family. She knew that she was making the right choice.

Still, she was also going to give the Auror path a try, just to be able to say that she tried, that she wanted to do something to help. She rested her head in her arms, just for a minute, she told herself, and looked forward…

xxx

The day after her return to London, Cho would be up early to see Gawain Robards, head of Aurors at the Ministry.

She'd never seen so much as a picture of him in the Prophet. But he was, in Cho's mind anyway, an impressive black man—so black as to be almost blue. His short hair and goatee were steel-grey, and something had forced the kindness out of his eyes years ago. Cho felt his gaze could cut through the door.

"What do you want?"

He had to know that already, Cho thought, but she let it pass. "I want to be an Auror."

"You and every third witch in England. Tell me why."

"It's what you need, and where I can be of some use."

"First of all, I'll decide if you can be of any use to the Ministry. Second of all, I don't know if the Ministry needs an over-wrought adolescent as an Auror."

This took Cho aback for a second. "Apparently, there's some sort of report about me. If I were over-wrought, that would have been in my Sixth Year. The report should reflect that I'm past that now."

"Report?" Robards allowed himself half a smile. "The Ministry has a nice thick file on you, Miss Chang, and on anyone else who's ever taken the Auror track at Hogwarts. D'you think we take any old Tom, Dick, or Chang on as an Auror, just because there's a war on?"

"There's an urgent need, though, isn't there?"

"We've lost a few good wizards lately, but that isn't automatically a state of emergency. Surely you know that. Ravenclaws aren't idiots, but they're usually not foolhardy, either."

"I don't think that taking on Voldemort and his Death Eaters is foolhardy, sir."

For the first time, Cho could see a bit of a light in Robards' eyes. "Not afraid of the name, then; that's good. You'd be surprised how many Aurors still are. Mostly veterans of the first war, though. Things they've seen will do that to you."

"Do you need to know what I've seen? Or do you really think it's all in the file?"

The other half of the smile came to Bogards' face. "You don't trust the file; frankly, neither do I. The file tells me you've studied all seven volumes of Goshawk, but so has everyone who's gone through Hogwarts. What else can you do?"

Cho glanced around the very crowded office. Books, papers, and some very curious artifacts were piled all over. "I don't want to disrupt your office."

"Child, if you can disrupt this office, that'll be something to see. You think this isn't secure against low-level magic? Show me what you can do; give it your best shot."

Cho left her wand in her robes, and not just because she had become adept at wandless magic; in the past year she had performed this particular spell so many times it was as basic as using Lumos to light a lamp. With a vision in her mind of the office in a shambles, she smiled and quietly said, "Expecto patro..."

xxx

"Cho."

Marietta was standing at the door.

"Train will be leaving soon. Time to go."

xxx

A/N: By all rights, this should have been the final installment in the story of Cho Chang. After all, she had completed her seven years at Hogwarts—or would have, if her N.E.W.T.s hadn't been suspended because of the death of Albus Dumbledore. Still, it was a surprise to read in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ that she put in at least part of an eighth year at Hogwarts. That year will be documented in the absolutely this-time-we-mean-it final installment of Cho Chang's life, complete with two epilogues (rewriting JKR's epilogue to _Deathly Hallows_, about which the less said, the better). One epilogue will have Cho romantically involved with a Muggle, as JKR said in an interview (although there was no foundation laid for it anywhere in the Canon, and the remark seemed off the cuff anyway). The other epilogue will bring Cho and Harry together again … and you'll have to wait for the rest.


End file.
